


The World Will be Covered In Snow

by WolfOfWar



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Economic reform of North, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, House Cassel, House Forrester, House Mormont, Leading his own house, Longboats, Lord Jon Snow, Multi, Nothing magical though, Relationship(s), Sea Ports, Sex, Starting 7 years before The Events of Game of Thrones, Strong North, The North is awesome, Trading, Viking Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2020-03-08 17:18:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18899149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfOfWar/pseuds/WolfOfWar
Summary: What if Jon had inherited more than the Stark blood. And he was more like wild bunchs of Starks but with a bit of Greenseering Power. Here Jon is a more wild character than in the books or show,with deep First Man values and a thirst to prove himself .He is going to have his own House and carve a name out for himself with blood. Standard GoT/AsoIaf Tags. Inspired from Bloody Wolf Of The North Story,But quite different.





	1. Dreams on Fire

JON  
Winterfell,291 AL

A winter rose sat perched in a small crack on a wall of ice, snow flakes flurrying around it. The petals were covered with spiky white frost as sharp as the thorns on its stem. The darkling sky was full off ravens, and dead men stirred in the trees below. Jon could only stare at it, his heart full of fear.The dead was clawing to get inside and he was the only one guarding the wall from them. Although it was snowing, he felt neither the cold nor the biting winds which howled around him. He watched still as the petals go crimson red, staining the wall with blood. It was driving the dead things under the wall mad, they were frantically trying to get inside now, to get to him. While red stains kept growing until it covered the snow in the ground completely. The blood started to pool on his feet. The last thing he heard before the blood drowned him was a woman’s face , filled with panic and desperation.

  
The maid was one of the most beautiful woman he ever saw in his life. Her face lookrd vaguely familiar, resembling his baby sister, Arya. There was a winter rose on her hair, just like the one perched on the ice wall and her eyes were full of tears,though not of fear nor sadness. But like a plea for someone to come and save her.

Jon woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in his bed, skin drenched in a sheen of cold sweat. His heart hammered away in his chest, just as it had in his dream. Like thunderdrum. There was pain in his chest. Like someone tried to drive daggers into them. It took quite a while for him to think straight, with his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled for breath.

  
Ever Since Jon became Nine he was being plagued by dreams of walls and dead man. They weren’t always the same ones, but they had some similarities. But never before he saw a bleeding rose before, nor a maid like that.

  
Realization caught Jon's heart like a mouse caught in a trap. He knew that woman. That’s why she looked so familiar to him.

  
It was his mother. And she was dead.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

NED

Eddark Stark,Lord Of winterfell and Warden of The North, was sitting in his solar writing out orders for the men finishing the work on the new Keep he gave order to built. The main builder had written to him and told him that they would probably be finished by the next two years, so he was writing out the paperwork for the withdrawal of coin from the vault needed to pay the workers. However, the numbers and coins was giving him a constant headache. As work as the Lord of Winterfell grew in number in the last couple of years. Ever since he tried to continue some of his father's old works.

  
His father, Rickard Stark had started to rebuild other holds through the North before he had died. When Ned had taken up the Lordship he had halted the construction on the majority of them in order to focus on expanding Winterfell and it surrounding, redirecting the funds used for the other holds straight into Winterfell's coffers.

  
However, after the Grejoys rebelled against the crown he started to work to build a keep and a port at Sea Dragon Point. The Greyjoy rebellion was clear proof how much of a threat the Krakens posed. They raided the entire west part of Westeros at that time, from Arbor to Bear Island. Without a fleet The North was completely vulnerable from the sea. Sea Dragon Point was in the west coast of North, a natural harbor, perfect for building a port. This new port would contain warships to keep the North safe as well as increasing trade. The location chosen for the keep was perfect already, mainly because of its position, semi fertile lands and the fact that it was where ancient stronghold of Warg King once stood.

  
Fortunately the Keep wasn't extremely large. Builders were ordered to use the foundation of the old keep to lay the new one and use stones from Stony Shore for the walls. The harbor was to be made of granite while wooden palisade would protect the keep. Strong oak and pine trees would make the other buildings. Wolfswood would provide all the timbers that needed to build the ships.

There were plenty of wildlife too. Otters in the lakes, salmon in the river and colonies of seals along the shore. Ambers and furs were available for trading. The locals reported the land contained nearly a hundred coves, perfect for shipbuilding’s and ambushing emery fleet. A natural stronghold of the first men if maintained properly. His plan was to give the keep to one of his sons when they came of age. The lord of the keep would hold lordship over the villages in the Peninsula and fishing villages of Stony Shore. Where the port would in direct control of Winterfell increasing its authority and coffer through ships and trade. House Cerwyn,Tallharts and Glovers all would profit to have a port nearby.He also planned to use the local population to create a town near the port.

  
Finally after finishing letters and giving it to Maester Luwin, Ned left his solar and walked amongst the castle of Winterfell. Catelyn, the Lady of Winterfell was currently watching over his two little girls and their lessons. Whilst Sir Roderick was training the boys in the yard. He walked across the walkway near the yard giving him a good sight of the sparring and practice.

  
"Lord Stark!" bellowed Sir Roderick finally seeing him in plain sight. "Do you wish to see their progress?" he shouted making his voice carry across the yard as loud as a war cry.  
Ned smiled a bit seeing the looks of pride from his boys. They each have been working incredibly hard with melee and archery. Jon more so than anyone.  
"If it pleases I wouldn't mind seeing how far they've come along Sir!" he called out.

Hearing the Lord of Winterfell interest in their skills seemed to bring the boys more energy as they immediately grabbed their blunted blades and waited on their drills to be given. Theon, his ward whom he brought back home after the Greyjoy rebellion and Robb, his son and heir was ready go at it. But not Jon, his bastard Son. Ned noticed with a frown in his eyes. He was sulking at a corner with a bored expression.

  
Ned wasn't sure what was the issue with Jon. Ever since he became nine, his brooding and sulking increased more than ever. He developed a habit of spending much of his time in the goodswood alone. Even as baby he was a quiet one. While baby Robb would cry loudly at a slight cause, baby Jon would merely open his big grey eyes and searched for the noise. He grew bigger than Robb in the last two year. The baby fat was almost gone from his face. Jon looked more like a ten and five rather than ten and one. Ned knew the servants talked about this too. How bastards grew faster than trueborn sons. But none had courage enough to say something like that to his face. His lady wife, was annoyed at the this and was more harsh to the boy as usual, much to Ned's dismay.

  
He was about to call out to Jon to give attention properly when Ser Rodrick paired him with Theon to spar. Still absent minded, Jon stood his ground. Though after parrying a few swings ,Theon managed to knock Jon right off his feet on the dirt.

  
"The Bastard has his head in the clouds today" sneered Theon mockingly.

  
Rodrick giving Theon a hard look proceeded to give Jon a hand to pull him up to his feet. But surprising Ned Jon got up by himself with a cold look at his face,the faraway look gone.

  
He calmly walked over to the weapon table and picked up a light axe. Turning to Theon, he ringed his sword and axe together, saying "Again" with determined voice.  
Both Rodrick and Ned was surprised at this new stance. He knew Rodrick was yet to teach them how to handle two weapons at once but his Master at Arms, gave them the nod anyway.

  
Jon seeing the approve immediately started circling Theon ,searching for a opening .As soon as Theon tried to attack, Jon caught the sword with the axe and pummeled him in the face with the sword guard and slipped behind him to hit him with the axe at his back. Theon kneeled at the ground in pain with blood filling up his nose."Yield" Jon commanded coldly. Theon was barely able to speak in pain as he slipped the sword out of his finger. Ned winced at the sight. The face of his ward was a bloody mess.

  
Seeing Theon needs to go to the maester,Rodrick told the boys the practice is over and to put their equipments in place. He hurriedly led the boy to in the keep.

  
As his sons were collecting their armor paddings Ned felt a slight of pain at how much resemblance Jon had with his uncles and grandfather. He had Rickard Stark's solemn nature, Brandon’s wild energy and his own quiet, watchful eyes. The wolf-blood was growing strong in the child most said, and Ned, as much as he would like, could not disagree with them. While he was trying to give Jon the same education as his natural son Robb, what with letting him sit in on Robb's lessons on numbers, letters and the like, Jon seemed to only be at home on the back of a horse or with a sword. Unless Jon was out riding (with or without permission) he would most often be found in the practice yard, and it showed in his skills.

  
At least Robb and Jon liked one another, treating each other as brothers as much as they could. Robb never lorded his trueborn status with Jon and Jon was constant in supporting whatever mischief Robb could dug out to, silently watching over the process.

  
Lost at his thoughts, He was surprised when he saw Jon was making his way to him.

  
"You left the dining hall rather abruptly in the morning, son.” Ned commented lightly. “Is something the matter?”

  
Genuinely surprised at the statement and happy at the attention given to him the boy let out a smile.  
“You noticed?”  
“Of course I did, Jon. You are my son.”

  
Ned could not help but be surprised the flash of bitterness that swept across Jon's face. He put a hand on his son’s shoulder, asking "What's the matter?"

  
"I saw my mother last night" Jon said bluntly.  
Hearing the words Ned felt shocked."There is no way he knows the secret he tried to bury all this years. He has no way to know".

"In a dream" Jon added."She was lying in a bed of blue rose with blood pooling at the ground. She's dead. Isn't she"?  
"Yes" Ned somehow managed to let out the word, still not recovering from the shock. That was exactly how he found his sister in that accursed tower in Dorne. Lying in a pool of blood. And blue rose was a favorite to her. Their mother often compared her to it.  
"Who was she"? Jon asked with grief filling his voice. His fist was clenched at the thought. Many times he asked his father about his mother, but never got a clear answer. Now he was hearing she's dead.

  
" Come tonight at my solar, son". That was all Ned managed to say."We will talk about your mother then".

 

**XxxxxxxxxxxxX**

JON

At night, Jon followed his father from dinner into his solar for the explanation he'd been promised. Taking a seat in front of his father's desk he waited for his father to start his explanation while he was pacing around the room

Wiping his eyes Jon was surprised to discover that tears filled them. To tell the truth, ever since understanding Lady Stark wasn't his mother, he had always held out hope that perhaps someplace out there his own mother was alive, and mayhap even waiting for him to show up at her door someday, but at the same time he had always known that it was probably just a hollow dream: a fervent hope from a young boy who wanted a mother due to his own father's wife spurning him at every turn. Well, only dreams he had now were full of snow, death and bloody roses now.

Looking at his father, Jon noted Lord Eddard Stark seemed conflicted .He took his time to formulate his words."Tell me more of your dreams, Son" he said with pain in his voice.

With his father sat in front of him, and Jon took a deep breath to calm himself before starting, "At first it was just snippets. Images of seemingly random things. But then they started getting specific. Sometimes they were about me hunting in the woods like animals, like tasting blood in my mouth. I dreamt I was standing in front of an icy wall, with a winter rose perched in a crack. There was faces like the Old gods in the godswood. Dead man were trying to get inside the wall. And suddenly it started to bleed. The wall and the roses both. They have been going on for months."

Jon was kept quiet for a while before starting again."Then last night,I saw the roses again. With a maid covered in blood. I didn't see her ever before but she looked so familiar. She was trying to stay alive for someone but it felt like she knew she was dying”. There were tears in his eyes now."Is the dreams true? Was it really my mother?".

His father was quiet for a long time before answering."Yes. That was your mother. She died giving birth to you"  
The words nearly shrank Jon into his chair. He felt like he was five again, crying for his father in a thunderstorm. Seeing Jon about to break down his father held up a hand to forestall him. "Your mother loved you from the day she felt you quickening in her womb. Even as your birth doomed her she loved you till her last breath, never think otherwise."  
"I just want to know who she was," Jon said with a hollow voice.  
"I will tell you all about her someday, Son". Father promised." But not now, hearing about your mother’s family will only give you more pain".

They both sat quietly in the solar for a while. Lost in their thoughts. Ned heard about these type dreams before. From old nan and his loyal friend,Howland Reed. "Greenseeing and Warging", they called it. He always waved them off as superstitions. He wasn't so sure anymore. And dreams about the walls and dead men weren't comforting either.

"I have decided something. These dreams aren't normal, Son. We need to consult with someone who knows about them more than me" His father said suddenly.  
"I'm not going mad father" Jon said worriedly. "I can assure you."

  
"I don't think so either" his father said tiredly."I'm going to send you to the Neck, to my friend, Howland Reed. The Reeds are the only one in the North from whom I’ve heard such tales of dreams before. He will understand what these actually means"

  
"And how much time I'll be spending there?" asked Jon. "That's not mine to tell" came the reply.

  
"Father" said Jon with a angered voice. Are you telling me you're going to send me to waste my life in the bogs and swamps of the Neck? Just because of my dreams? What I'm supposed to do in the future. Hunting frogs and rolling in mud?"

Surprised at the sudden outburst, Ned said "Well what do you want to do then?"

  
"You always talked about raising new lords and settling them in the abandoned holdfasts in the New Gift and I believed that, had winter come and gone more quickly, I might have been chosen to hold one of the settlements your name." Jon said."Robb will be Lord of Winterfell one day and baby Bran his bannerman.I can do the same father. I promise!"

Watching his son quietly for a time the Lord of Winterfell rised from his chair. "Very well" he said in his commanding voice. "You will hold a keep. But not in the Gift. I need a new Lord in Moat Cailin. The fortress is a ruin but it is very important for North. You will go to the moat and take up the Lordship there.The people there needs a lord as well. You will continue your lessons under the Howland Reed and restore the Castle as your best. If you prove worthy I'll ask the king to legitimize you so you can start you own house".  
Jon's mouth opened and closed on its own account, no words coming forth. Jon was quick to recover and kneeled quickly. "Thank you father, you have no idea how much this means to me" he said hurriedly.  
"It depends how you will prove yourself,Son. A lordship isn't besting people in practice fights" his father said.  
Before Jon was leaving, his father called to him."Don't mention any of your dreams to anyone else here, Jon. They won't understand it. And promise me you will keep this a secret.”

Nodding in agreement, Jon left his father's solar to wait in the balcony of the hall for a while, thinking about what just happened. The sky was looking grey with clouds. And the winds was howling loudly around the walls. "There's a storm coming" he thought to himself."And my life is about to change."


	2. New Home

 

 

 ** Map of The North.Territory ** **  under Winrerfell in grey, Territory under the new port town in green and the Territory given to Jon marked in blue. **

 

** Jon **

The horses were on a cliff. Overlooking the shadow The Moat, an ancient stronghold of the first men. One of the most important in the north, though most of it now remained in ruins. Only three of the original twenty towers remained standing, commanding the narrow causeway, only safe path to travel through the swamps of the Neck. Jon knew all about those towers now. For near four months he dreamed about the place, walking among the ruins of once mighty castle in his sleep, which now belonged to him. He felt a sense of pride looking at the sight. The ruin bore a mark of millennia, of Old kings Of Winter. They were cold and hard man, and styled themselves as kings in the North, swearing allegiance to no man.

Jory pulled up beside him. Early in his thirties he was already a veteran of two wars. Strong and loyal, he was one of the most trusted men of the Starks. Father named him his master at Arms here at the Moat. Jon was grateful for it. Out of all the men of his father, it was Jory he and his siblings liked the most. He was like an uncle to them.

“The castle is nearly three miles from here" he said, pointing at north. "If we ride hard, we’ll reach there before dark"

Jon thought about it for a moment. The warmth of a Castle would be a pleasure for their Party. But there was little of it left in the Moat. It would also take a long time to prepare the beds and lights in a unknown place. They needed to eat as well. Better wait for the morning. "Nah" he reasoned."It will be hard to do anything in the night. Let’s stop at the nearby village. We'll visit the Castle tomorrow. We've been riding hard for too long.The men will like the extra rest". Truth to be told, from what he have seen from his visions, spending time around the Castle in dark didn't seem thrilling to him. No matter how impressive it looked Moat was a dark and foreboding place.

Nodding, Jory left to give the order. No doubt pleased at the order of early halt.

Jon looked at their party. They had been riding together for two months now. Lord Stark gave him fifty men to serve as his guard at the moat. Though, only twenty of them were castle guards. Rests were peasant levies, little trained and sent to work in the fields. Some of them had their wives and children with them. With the wagons filled with tools and grains from home, their Party wasn't a small one.

 "These men look up to Jory”. Jon thought darkly. They were respectful enough, but it wouldn't take a clever man to understand what the small-folks were thinking. With him being only ten and one, they were seeing him as only a lordling, too young to travel by himself. Let alone lead."Well. I just have to change their mind" thinking to himself, Jon urged his horse forward. Ghost, his wolf pup followed closely, trying to keep up.

 

He found the albino pup near Cerwyn lands, on the riverbank north of the road. It was nearly run over by a wagon when Jon noticed it. He immediately got off from his horse, bringing the party to an abrupt halt.

"Look, Jorry. Someone left a puppy at the road!” He said excitedly. The pup was beautiful, covered in white fur, with red eyes. It nuzzled against him, searching for food, making a tired whimpery sound.

 By then Jory also dismounted. He took up the pup by the neck, looking at it closely. "It's not a puppy Jon" he informed. "It's a wolf pup. Although a weird looking one" he added while eyeing the large head and long frontal legs. "Runt of the litter by the looks of it. Probably was driven away by the older siblings."

Jon felt a bit of sympathy for the pup. At least no one tried drove him away from his home. Except Catelyn Tully maybe. He took the pup from Jory and placed in the wagon with one of the families. "We won't have a kennel or hounds in the new place. Better we start with a wolf" he said with a smile.

"A wolf isn't a dog Jon. It won't slight away from a kick or beg for a treat when it grows up" Jory frowned. "It will kill prey for food. And it might not even survive"

"Guess we have to take our chances then"

 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The party stopped the small village near the kings road. Jon was disappointed by the look of it. He was expecting a village like those he saw in his father's land. Poor no doubt, but had no shortage in space or hay to make beds. This one only had poorly built house, likely to fall down at slight wind and Muddy Street. His village now, he reminded himself.

"Don't expect much here Jon" Jorry told him kindly, seeing his disappointment. "Most of these man lives from hand to mouth. They hunt and gather in the nearby marshes and forests. It's surprising that they have built villages here. They weren't here when we went to fight in the rebellion."

Jon's master at arms forced him to spend the night in a better house in the village. Rather than kicking out the poor farmer out his house Jon went to the barn, gathered some hay and prepared bed for himself. Ghost also liked these arrangements. There was enough mice for him to chase around.

 Lying in his bedroll, He thinks how hard it was for him to leave Winterfell.  Standing on the battlements of the Castle it felt like sun would never set on the horizon. Now the sun has set already and his nights won't give him any rest.

Lady Stark was the only person who seemed genuinely happy at the fact that Jon was leaving Winterfell. Her previous attempts at sending him away to foster failed badly. "Stupid Hag" Jon thought bitterly. There was a time when he was afraid of his father’s wife; Once he wanted her to be his mother. Now he simply detested the woman.

Robb was happy for him, also sad to see his brother go. He embraced him tightly, telling next time they would see each other Jon would be a proper lord.

Sansa, the little perfect lady in the making was excited at the news that Jon was going south. She demanded tales and letters from him, of Knights and maidens. It felt bitter when Lady Stark tried to keep her precious daughter away from her bastard brother. Though she didn't have enough success in it. True that Sansa followed her mother in every way possible, but Jon was the brother who let slip all his lemoncakes to her, who was never mean to her as Theon was and always let her join in his and Robb's games when she was little. He thanked all the gods that Sansa didn't understand what being a bastard actually meant yet.

Bran the baby, was only four years old. He didn't understand what was happening, but demanded sweets from Jon when he came back all the same.

But it was hardest to leave Arya. His only sibling that looked like him. She was crying her eyes out when Jon was leaving through the gate. He was always more close to her than rest of his siblings. Making her braid and playing with her dolls. He had to promise her swords and bows before leaving. It was a comfort that Robb promised to look after her the way he did.

 

Tearing his thoughts from home. ,Jon turned at his side. The scents and noises around him were changing with time. He could see in dim light,Ghost running around in the barn without effort and smell the slaughtered cattle, which was probably from months earlier. His senses were getting sharper. A sign that the gods were calling to him to join in their halls. Surrounded by the untamed lands of the Neck, the gods were much stronger here than they had been at home. _And way more demanding._

"It's time to fly again" he thought to himself. “Just need to be careful not to travel to far away to come back in time" and closed his eyes.

 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

** Jory **

Careful on the stairs, Captain" Orys ,one of the guards said. "They don't feel very stable"

Jory couldn't help but agree with him. The age old wooden stairs were doing a poor job to replace the stone.

They have been staying at Moat for two days now. Their Party, counting eighty and two found residence in the remaining towers. The women and children were at the Drunkards tower, the men at the Children's tower. The gatehouse tower, only one in good condition were chosen as the Lord's chambers. The large and tall building was squat and wide. Only one which still stands straight, even retaining some of the walls around it.

 The towers look definitely better than the last time he saw them. No doubt curtseys of the work lord Rickard Started. Terrace of the Children's tower was partly fixed, preventing air and rain to get inside them. Previously it looked like someone slashed the top with a sword. Even The lean drunkard tower had stone columns around it, an attempt to fix the structure.

Currently he was going at the gatehouse tower. The tower had it walls and rooms fixed. The holes on the walls were fixed with mortared stones. "Only thing that had some resemblance with lordship" Jory thought. Jon Snow, The new lord of the castle had called a meeting inside the keep. His two sergeants, Haldur and Rogvild joined him.

As he reached the stairs, he found the wolf creeping from nearby bushes, its muzzle red with the blood of a kill. There was something unusual about the pup. Like those red eyes understood too much. Jon named it, Ghost. As it never made a sound.  _Suitable name for a predator_. There was something unusual going with Jon as well. His new Lord was a good lad, he brooded always but a good boy nonetheless. "He got bigger in size in the last two years. His habits and nature changed as well. He is different now." Jory noticed. "His eyes were always restless, always noticing every details." _like the wolf he chose as his pet._ They only had been in the Moat for two days. And Jon was so fluid and confident in his walks and decisions like he has been here a thousand times before.

 

He found Jon in a great open room with a great stone table in the middle. Arney, the current steward was in the room with a old man in poorly arranged clothes. Jon invited the elder of the village in the meeting. Though, the poor man looked unsure about his place in there.

Jon was wearing his riding tunic and breeches. And had a sword strapped to his thigh along with a knife. "Friends" he started. "We have reached our destination. My Lord father gave me an order to rebuild the place as best of my capabilities. That means we all have our orders .Now it’s time to settle our duties."

 

Turning to his captain, Jon asked "Has all the men settled in?” "Yes" Jory replied _. As best it was possible in this damned place_. They lacked proper food in here, not even good drinking water was available.

"Good" said Jon, not bothered by the tired tone. "Send two men with horses in the villages near Saltspear to mark our borders as father planned in the map." "Our village elder, Kalf here will help with directions", the old man nodded nervously. "Also I want to know about the crops you produce in the village"

"They don't grow many crops here in here." Arney,the steward interrupted. "Barley, oats and rye. Crops that your grandfather gave them to plant when he was rebuilding this place"

"Yes. M'lord." Kalf added. " But crops don't grow well in these lands. We live from hand to mouth here. Most folk leaves for fishing and gathering in the morn. Return with whatever game they can find. Few man toil the fields. Though due to these crops i might say our village was built."

"Give these details to the steward” Jon ordered. Turning to Jory, he added "prepare the wagons. We're going to White Harbor "

Jory couldn't be but surprised at this. Lord Stark had gave him different orders. "But we were supposed to go to Greywater Watch. Lord Reed would wait for us there.”

Jon dismissed him with a wave. "Father isn't here. And we’ve a lot of work to do. A shipment is waiting for us in White Harbor. We need it to start our work".

“Lord Stark didn't tell me about a shipment. He ordered me to get you to Greywater after we reach the Moat." Jory pressed the young lord. “And you can't just keep Lord Howland waiting. It would be an insult to him. Your father won't take it slightly. "

"Lord Reed won't be waiting. Father hadn't sent a raven as it won't be able to find the watch. And we’re the only riders from Winterfell in here" Jon said as he stood, signaling the meeting is over. "Prepare the horses, captain. We leave tomorrow."

Sighing Jory got up, preparing to give the orders. The Moat was a hard place to serve. And he missed his time at Winterfell. He was with his family there, His uncle and young cousins. He had his own chambers too. Now a decent night’s sleep or a bed was hard to found. He was quite annoyed when he had heard that he was to go the Neck.

 

But Lord Stark gave him an order. He took him personally to his Chamber and told that he was entrusting his boy to him, asking Jory to look after him. And he respected his lord above everything. He followed Eddard Stark, the lord of Winterfell into two wars. Fought side by side with him. He didn't fail him at the battles. And he wasn't going to fail him now.

 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

** Jon **

The dreams he was having wasn't so consistent when they were on the road. But for the last few days it felt like they returned with a vengeance. They changed in their contents too. He was constantly seeing the barrows of the Neck now. Well, only one in particular. A burial tomb near a huge Weirwood grove. The barrow had pillars of stone around it. Ancient runes were drawn around it too keep the evil away. The lands in the Neck were filled with graves of the first men, no doubt from the constant battles that once took place in the area, reaching as far as up to Barrowlands. People living there gave them usually a huge arch. “Dead and worse things lived in there, coming to life at night,” they said.

Jon however recognized the Weirwood grove when their party was traveling through the Kings road. It was the only carved Weirwood in the area, the local people usually steered clear of the place, believing it to be haunted.

After Giving Jory the order to ready the wagons for their trip to White Harbor, He left by himself to visit the barrow. Curious to figure out why the gods wanted him to visit the place. He took his saddlebag, a horse and armed himself with his sword and axe, ready to set out on the northern road. Jory would surely want him to bring guards with him, but he was too busy to arrange the journey. "This is much better" Jon thought to himself. It would be hard to explain to the guards why he was visiting barrows that were known to be haunted. Whistling Ghost to follow, he kicked up his horse.

 

When he found the barrow he was tired and sore for the ride. He had to backtrack their trails up to the godswood, and follow what little memory from his dreams he had, to find the barrow. It was tiring work. Still Jon couldn't help but be surprised when he found the barrow. It had long impressive stone arches and stairs to climb up to the main gate, with huge wide halls like crypts of Winterfell. Signaling  that most of its structure was underground.

The gate of the tomb was open, a cracked shell of an entrance. Jon nearly jumped when he put his feet on a skeleton. It had a shattered skull and a ugly smile, waiting to welcome to eager visitors. No doubt a reminder why this place was deserted. Ghost was suspicious at the ruin, sniffing around and baring his teeth at the shadows. But followed his master inside nonetheless.

More skeletons were laid here and there. Some with burial urns beside them. They started to make Jon uneasy. The first men took great care when they laid their dead to rest. They shouldn't be fallen like scattered leaves in the floor. " _Unless they somehow......"_ He decided to put a halt to his thoughts there.

 

A spiral staircase took him deeper inside the tomb. He came up to another hidden entrance, but this one had oil lamps and torches on the wall. "What sorcery is this?” He wondered. The dusts on the floor clearly indicated that no one stepped a foot here for a long time. However, another corpse in the room caught his interest. The withered thing had a golden artifact in his hands. Jon pulled it from its fingers and inspected. It had the shaping of a claw, with markings of a direwolf, raven and a wierwood tree. "A fine craft. A lord would pay a good price for this" he thought, as he pocketed the claw.

At the end of the hall, however there was another stone door with the same markings on them. Only arranged differently. With the symbols marked on the claw, it didn't took him long to figure out the puzzle. Placing the markers of the door in the right place according the claw’s, he put the it's fingers in the hole and turned. The door cracked and opened.

As he got inside, Jon's mouth full open. The chamber inside was lighted with torches, like the others and decorated like a kings hall. It had chests overflowing with gold pieces, bars of silvers and ornaments adorned with gems. "A hoard" he thought. "And buried with a king" after noticing the altar in the middle. There was a skeleton lying on it. With a giant broadsword on his chests. The rusted bronze crown on his head declared him as a king of winter. "But which one? All of my ancestors are buried in the crypts." Jon remembered. _"Why would they bury a Stark here?_ “

After moments of inspecting the hoard, Jon found his answer. There were many golden seven pointed stars and coins with dragons on them. The wealth wasn't from North. It was brought from the Valyrian strongholds _. Probably as plundered loot._

That cleared the situation for him. "Only one Stark crossed into the Andals territory” he remembered his lessons from Maester Luwin. "So the king in the altar must be Theon Stark, _The Hungry Wolf"_

After Killing Argos Sevenstar, the cursed zealot as Northmen called him, Theon Stark sailed to Andal homeland. He destroyed towns, massacred villages and burned the septs. "Apparently took his plunder as well. He probably died defending the Moat from south. And was buried here with his hoard" he thought sadly. "And his man raised his resting place in honor". 

There was a longsword amongst it too. Light as a dagger, sharp as a freshly stoned sword. He picked up the sword in the light as he inspected. There were ripples all along the length. The metal was dark blue. It shared some similarities with the Valyrian blade of his father but the markings looked more Northern.

Jon slung the blade across his back and started filling his bag with the gold pieces. "The gods have granted me a gift." he thought with a smile. With this huge amount of gold, he could easily repair the Moat as he wanted and build himself an army. Dreams sent by the gods weren't so useless like he thought.

_Dead men don't walk and certainly the Wall was fine as well._

However, as he walked outside the room with the claw and saddlebag full of gold, Jon noticed something different. It ran a shiver down to his spine. "Fuck" he cursed in a mutter as he reached for his new sword in the back. Ghost got ready to jump too as he bared his fangs.

 

_The body he took the golden claw from, that accursed dead………Was Gone._

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets clear up a few things.  
> 1\. Sansa is still a child. So she isn't fully ready to follow her mother into detesting Jon yet.She is 8, Arya is 6 and Bran is just four.  
> 2\. I said North wont develop itself magically.And it won't. Despite Jon finding himself a hoard.  
> 3.Tags of relationship will appear a bit later.
> 
> as usual forgive me if the writing style is bad,leave a kudos if you like the work. Criticism is accepted.


	3. Preparations

** Jon **

 

Jon had never seen White Harbor before. His first sight was of New Castle rising over the landscape, while seagulls cawed and the smell of salt was thick in the air. The city was all white stone and straight streets, with steeply pitched slate roofs tilting downwards towards the coast of the White Knife. Even from a distance, He could see the harbor heaving with sails, ships attended by ant-like figures.

His men were awed. Most of them never saw a city this large before. Jon grimaced in pain trying to share a smile with them. He had a cut from his forehead to under his eye. Still fresh and raw.  Every time he tried he tried to blink or move his eye it hurt badly.

The cut came from a swing of axe in from the dead corpse in the goodswood barrow. Jon was scared out of his wits when he first saw the corpse walking, with gleaming blue eyes and milk white skin. Even Ghost backed up in a corner. Despite Its scary appearance, it was quite slow in movement. Suppressing his fear, he avoided the charge and managed to drive his sword straight into Its belly and dropped his guard, sure that he killed it. But the corpse just freed its hands and started choking him against the wall. He got free by barely hitting it the head with a torch from the wall as ghost distracted it with a bite in the leg. It fell in the ground thrashing and screeching as flame covered it.

He ran like hell from the barrow then, not looking back till he charged his horse into the nearest village. Thanking the gods that he didn't grab Theon Stark's sword. It would probably crumble the whole barrow on his head. At least he still managed to hold to the golds he took.

 

Currently they were on the white knife. Trying to ferry across the river to the port of White harbor. They left their wagons at the village, to fill with the cargo they would bring. They got down at the harbor and started making their ways new Castle, the seat of House Manderly.

 

By the time they started the approach up the pale staircase leading to New Castle, guards with silver tridents came to receive them. With men parting their ways seeing the direwolf banner. "This way, my lord" Ser Bartimus grumbed. He was a One legged knight, in the service of Manderleys, castellan of Wolf’s Dane.

Jon and his party were led into the handsomely furnished pale castle. Silver and green ordained the walls, along with broken shields and rusted swords from ancient victories, and wooden figureheads from the prows of ships. The doors to the Merman’s Court opened, leading into a great hall of wooden planks decorated with all the creatures of the sea. A large cushioned throne of weathered oak rested at the far end, in front of a painted wall showing a kraken and grey leviathan locked in battle.

 

The first time Jon lay eyes on Lord Wyman Manderly, he couldn't help but wonder how this man moves around. He was the fattest man he ever saw, weighing at least thirty stones. And bellowed like a Whale.

"Jon Snow, new lord of ,Moat Cailin ” Ser Bartimus announced before him, hopping on his wooden leg all the way. “Coming before Lord Wyman Manderly, Lord of White Harbor, Warden of the White Knife, Shield of the Faith, Defender of the Dispossessed and Lord Marshal of the Mander, Knight of the Order of the Green Hand.” "

"Greetings, my lord" said lord Manderly politely. He sounded a bit impressed of the Jon's title and age. "I was expecting a party from Winterfell. However, I didn't expect Lord Stark to send his son"

 

It feels strange to stand in a lords hall after these months, as much as hearing one calling him a lord. "The orders were from Winterfell, my lord. But the shipment was ordered for me.” Jon said.

"Ah. Please follow me to my Chamber" The fat lord rose with great difficulty.

"I did as your father asked me in the letters." he said after everyone had taken their seats. Jon had Jory and his steward follow him. Rests of the guards were taken to the barracks for rest and refreshments.  "Arranged seeds for crops to plant. All the Equipments you need to plough the fields. Also hired a team of builders." Lord Manderly paused for a little.  "But there was another raven. Had instructions to get a shipment of strange crops from Yi Ti"

Jon leaned forward, feeling a bit excited. "Has it arrived?”

"Yes. Replied lord Manderly. "Also there was a man in the crew. He claims to be a shipwright, but he has some experience with farming and also with our lands. He will stay here to help growing the crops. For a price"

Jon was undoubtedly happy. He speeded hours in Winterfell’s library with Maester Luwin. Trying to find out which crops would fare better in the wet soil of the neck. The solution came to him by pure accident. While eyeing a work the maester was copying, he went through a couple of pages of Jade Compendium. A book about the lands of Yi Ti. They cultivate a crop called rice there, on the low lying and marsh lands. Perfect for the Neck,if it can withstand the cold. Luwin also suggested him different tactics to plough and plant the crops better.

"Thank you, Lord Wyman.” Jon said. "If your men would show my captain the cargo we can began the work of unloading them. He waited After Jory left. His father gave him a chest of silver, but he had little idea about how much it would cost him. He sent the last letter by himself, using his father's seal when he wasn't in his chamber. "There's still a question for payment I believe"

Lord Manderly nodded "The cost for all this was nearly three thousand stags. Winterfell would pay for this I presume. Or would you like to take a loan?”

"No actually. My father gave me silver to pay for the goods. “Jon replied, As Arney the steward handed him the the chest of silver. Jon added half the golds he took from the tombs in there. “My steward will attend the counting .And if you would be so kind, my Lord, please see that the remaining gold is changed into lesser currency,copper and silver.”

** XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX **

After finishing his business with Lord Manderly, Jon attended his man at the port who was loading the goods from the ship into boats. The boats were small for accessing into narrow waterways around the villages. The man from Yi Ti was there too. He was a strange looking man, with a deep black braid and beady little eyes. "Zhing Shi Chang, at your service, my Lord” he said with a bow. Zhing, as Jon thought off calling him was quite resourceful. He had been in Westeros before, sailed to Bravos and Dragonstone port. The man was a captain of a ship, before losing it in a storm. He had to take up farming to see himself through the days.

As Jon walked through the port, a thin pale hand grabbed his cloak. "Spare a coin for the poor, m'lord" a shaky voice underneath a rag spoke. He felt a bit of pity for the man. Clearly he was starving for days.

Jon tried to dig out some pennies for the beggar from his purse but stopped as he noticed his hands. He had burnt marks all over. Like the marks of Mikken, Winterfell’s smith. "Do you have a trade" he asked, kneeling in one knee in front of the man.

"I had. Once. When I had a home." the man said bitterly.

His tale was also bitter. The man was a smith in Bravos once. Before he discovered his lawful wife in bed with another man. He killed the man in a duel and strangled his wife to death. But the man's family sought retribution and forced him to leave Bravos in a hurry without any of his wealth. Ternesio he claimed, his name was."And now I'm fated to die alone and hungry in this frozen land"

“A smith has better use than a dying man" Jon said with a smile. He told Jory to take the man and feed him properly. "I could use a smith in Moat" he thought. They had enough swords and armor for their current garrison. But none for the new recruits.

By the time the workers were done, the boats were full of sacks from haul to radar. Jon had to hire three more boats to fill up his men. He squished himself in a place between the sacks, trying to get a comfortable nap.

Jory was quite happy seeing all the seed crops. "A good plan" he said."If we could grow them, we could surely feed all the men in our lands. No one would grow hungry anymore."

"You know a lot of people tell stories how great cities will rise in the North one day. Rivaling  King's landing and The Reach." Arney the steward told the people around him. “ And great kings Of Winter would fly on Griffins, fighting with the Dragon Lords of Valyria"

"Lots of cunts." replied Jon, not opening his eye. The men around them gave a laugh. Even Jory was amused. "If we somehow had a population same as the Reach we wouldn't be in North anymore. Might as well cut down the goodswoods and start kneeling in front of stone statues. No, we only have Our frost and snows, iron and bronze, rocks and pine-cones, fish and trade,long winters and short summers. We can't hope to rival the Reach in riches or in crops.We must prosper with what we have. “he said in a determined voice. "It's our struggle that keeps us strong, not silly dreams of summer." _And prayers that will make the Gods bless the new crops ._

** XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX **

It was nearly afternoon when their party reached the lands of the Moat. The men began unloading the cargo from boats into the wagon as Jon decided to take a ride to clear his head.

Now the business was finished with white harbor the matter of meeting Lord Howland still remained. Truth to be told he wasn't really excited about the meet. While staying in Winterfell, He tried to focus on south of the Neck in one of his dreams, trying to find Greywater watch. Only thing he saw was a boy of green mossy eyes, same as the age of Bran. His age didn't cover the fact in the eyes of the gods that the boy had  greenseer powers in his bloods. Though he  still had a long time to bloom. Jon didn’t like that one bit.

Winterfells library had old rusty tomes on greenseer and wargs. Greenseers had the greensight and were wargs as well, the book said.  _The First Men believed that they were responsible for carving faces into weirwoods, creating heart trees. The greenseers were said to be able to see through the faces of their weirwoods, influencing animal and plant life, and possibly seeing into the past and future._

Most of these Jon was able to do. He could see the world in the eyes of the gods in his dreams and take over Ghost's skin for a time. And it made him feel powerful. _Like he was choosen to rule over earth and animals._ The fact that there were boys in the Neck who have same powers irritated him. He bore no ill will to the boy; still he was somehow angry about the fact.

 

After a short time, he had ridden on down the kingsroad, putting the thoughts of greenseers and wargs in the back of his mind to ponder another time. He had been plodding along the road for a good amount of time when he heard the noise.

Cautiously, he brought his horse to a stop, listening for signs of another. When another round of screams came, he dismounted, hand going for his sword at the belt. It sounded like a woman's screams. And accompanying those, to his revolt, was laughter. Sick and raunchy.

 "Oh hold still, s'not nearly as fun with you squirmin'," he heard a man's voice say. Rounding the bend in the road, Jon crouched behind some bushes and peered through the leaves to get a view of the scene before him.

 

His stomach turned uncomfortably when he recognized what he saw. Three men had surrounded a young girl who couldn't have been much older than ten and four. Two of them were keeping her pinned down while the third was grabbing at her cloth, in an obvious attempt at raping her.

 

Anger flared in Jon at the sight, his heart pounding in his rib cage like a war drum.

 

"Please don't, I beg you!" The girl cried, voice high and wet with tears.

 

"Did ya 'ear that lads?" The man with holding the girl sneered as he got himself ready to mount her. "This cunt thinks we'll listen. Almos' funny in'it?" The other two men laughed with him, the sound just as ugly as their behavior. That was when Jon snapped, unable to just sit and strategize anymore.

Hey!" He called, standing up and unsheathing his blade. The sound of steel rang through the air almost musically, making the men stop and look. Mustering up as much strength as he could, he addressed the rapers. "Let go of her. Now! "

 

His words though, however impressive, just made the three burst into gaudy laughter.

The lad thinks he's a lord," one of them coughed out. "Little far from yer castle, are we?" He taunted. "Get rid of him" ordered the first one.  Jon just bared his teethes in return, gripping his sword tighter in his hand.

Two of them drew their weapons. "Let's make this quick" one of the would be rapers said.

"Agreed” replied Jon. And charged.

 

The sound of steel on iron clanged in the air as Jon's weapon met theirs. It was quickly followed by his own side step and parry before blocking one of the axes. They were large and obviously strong. But Jon was quick, and he used that to his advantage.

 

Ducking under a blow, he hit his cross guard against one of their noses, his favourite move. The sound of bone breaking soon followed by shouts and swearing. He had to dodge another blow after that, side-stepping before regaining his balance and swinging at the attacker. He felt steel meet flesh and watched as blood spurted from the man's leg. Immediately he swung his own axe on the kneeling man with as much strength he could master, nearly taking the man's head off. 

The second one tried to jump at him at the same time. But Jon sidestepped and kicked both of his legs out, and drove his sword through the man's throat.

It seemed as though his last attacker was not so enraptured, as he felt a body barrel into his, sending him crashing into the dirt. He squirmed around desperately beneath the large man, straining to free his sword hand, which was pinned beneath him. He felt a fist collide with his jaw, and the iron taste of blood quickly pooling in his mouth.

 

He fumbled his axe hand on the ground next to him, hoping  to hit the man. But he never got the chance, as there was a sudden THUNK, followed by his attacker screaming in pain as an arrow pierced his shoulder. Jon grabbed his axe with both hands and drove it though the man's face. He landed on him, pushing the breath out of Jon's chest, before rolling off, unconscious. Not before bleeding all over Jon's hair.

Haldur, one of sergeant have followed him. Surely on Jory's orders.

 

"Thank you" Jon offered Haldur. Picking his sword of the ground. "Are you alright, my lady?" He asked, looking at the girl over for any injuries besides the growing bruises on her arms and face. The girl offered a tentative nod, still shaking and looking like a deer ready to flee. Jon noticed this with a frown.

"Lyn," she said, giving her name. "And yes, I think so." Her voice was small and shaky, unsurprising given the circumstances.

"Is there somewhere we can take you, Lyn?" He asked. "Is your home nearby?"

She nodded mutely, pointing down the kingsroad to the south. "It's village near the river. I was gathering greens for my family."

"Haldur, escort the girl to the village " he ordered, as he started checking the dead bodies for signs indicating who they might be.

"There was four.” the girl spoke out. “An ugly looking looking one with hounds. He reeked like a pig. He was leading them.”

By the time  Jory and the his men arrived at the scene, Jon had went through all of the corpses belongings. "There's no house sigil or token, sign of where they came from " he told them as they dismounted. "Just some coins. Apparently there was another one. But he escaped"

Jory ignored him as he started searching Jon for wounds. "You're bleeding badly" he exclaimed. Mistaking the blood on Jon's hair and face as his own.

Jon moved his hand away. "Not my blood" he replied. The men around him gave him astounded looks, no doubt surprised at the fact that Jon was able to kill three full grown man at this young age  "Any one from the village know about these men or wherever they form" he asked the group. 

"No,m'lord. " replied a villager. "But we've heard tales from barrowlands. Peasant girls are sometimes found there. Their body disfigured from animal bites and raped"

"They must be man at arms of some lord or knight. These are decent steels" Jory said after looking at the weapons.

"Send some man to track their steps" Jon ordered."We need to find out the fourth man and where they came from. Hand their coins to the girls family. And hang the bodies in the goodswood." he added.

"But they are already dead, my lord" Haldur asked. "What's the point of hanging them?"

"Give them to the gods" Jon told him simply as he turned his horse for the moat. He was tired as hell. Hopefully the blood offerings would give the gods some peace. _I could use some peace and quiet after last two days._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry if this chapter is a bit boring. I got bored myself while writing it. I promise the action and storyline will pick up from next chapters.  
> And if you like this work, you might find this one interesting as well. The writer didn't finish it. Probably because it didn't get enough attention.  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/11713119/chapters/26380065


	4. The Devils In The Mist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There are traditions among our people that run deep as stone. His shield was as versatile it was strong. His sword and axe was lethal. Simple. An ancient design. And a leader who does not lead the charge in battle is no leader at all. He was called Bloodhair; a name that was earned:through another ancient tradition of war. To become a Lord means service to all those who need it, for life. He was the shield of our people... and he did not fail."
> 
>  
> 
> _992 AC,Saga of Bloodhair._

 

****

 

 

**Jon**

 

Jon had been on edge all day, pacing in his tower searching for the source of his discomfort. It should have been a happy day, he reasoned. Nearly four months have passed since the visit to White Harbor. The cultivation went extremely well, the process of restoring the walls of the Moat started and a feast was arranged to celebrate their first harvest. Before starting to cultivate the new crop, paddy as Zhing Shi Chang, the Yi Ti'sh shipmaster called it, Jon decided to to test the crop in the Moat first. The lands near the village under the castle were ploughed and planted under Zhing's instruction. The harvest was more than enough for Jon to decide to send the seeds to the other villages in his domain. The villagers were in high spirit due to the success. They even decided to name their village as Snowfall to honor Jon.

As he was sitting in his chair, Arney the steward was handing him the letters and numbers to needed to be signed. "We've spent a great amount of our silver to fix the walls m'lord. " He said worriedly. "And will need a lot more to continue the work" Jon waved away his worry. "Coin isn't a problem".

  
Actually he visited the barrow twice more. Visiting that dreaded place wasn't something he usually looked forward too but it was necessary to look over the works he started. The amount of coins going in the construction was exhausting. He needed to establish their trade system soon. Some option related to bronze and timber was in his mind.

  
Zhing, in his leisure built some ships to travel through the small inlets of swamps. "The land is too wet to travel on horses.” he constantly complained to Jon. So whenever he had free time from setting up drainage system or dig out crop rows, he set the man up to fell trees to build ships. All the small sized ships were slow and prone to capsizing in rough seas, appropriate for short trips that hugged the shore. However, according to his homeland style, he thought of the keel. This simple addition was a great nautical breakthrough in long-ship building. Not only did it stabilize the ship, making it ocean-worthy, but it provided a base to anchor the mast. A massive sail, some as large as eight hundred square feet, could now be added as the major source of propulsion. The women were set to work hard on it. The impact was immediate and stunning. In a time when few of  their fishermen ventured far from land, the ships were said to be able to criss-crossed the seas with cargoes of timber, animals, and crossing distances of nearly thousands of miles.Dragon headed prows were added in front of ships according to Yi-tish tradition. When Jon asked what with the dragons,Zhing said that they represented retribution,knowledge and regeneration.

 

As for building, stones and strong tress were available enough in the swamps to build the structures. The head builder advised Jon to use the old bases and remaining stones of the towers to build the new wall. After he and Jory went through the plan, it was decided that instead of original Twenty Towers they will build 6 towers around the fort. Four around the corner and two in the side walls. The workforce and time it would take to finish the complete structures were massive. Jon planned to hire more builders’ team from the riverlands to speed up the process.

"Some riders have c'me in the fort,m'lord". Orys, his door guard suddenly picked in his head. "A trading party from the looks of it"  
"Are we expecting someone?” Jon asked as he rose from his chair.  
"Not that I know of, my lord" Arney followed suit.  
As they stepped outside of the tower, several riders carrying Bear marked shields and banner filled in. They had several wagons with them, all looked to be bustling with goods.  
"Lord Snow" a girl almost as tall as Jory said with a nod of appreciation . 'You've grown quite a lot I see".

  
"Dacey Mormont" Jon returned the nod with a smile. "A pleasant surprise to see you here. Let me welcome you to my hearth and home" He waved at the stable boys to unload the wagons and take care of the horses.  
Dacey had visited Winterfell a few times,few years his senior. Jon and Robb used to team up together against Cley Cerwen and her. I'm happy to see her. Jon thought to himself.

As the servants started to unload the carts, Jon inspected them with Dacey. She was offered rests and bath, but she wanted to see the Moat she had heard of so much.  
"That's a lot of fur. Where are you taking them? “He inquired after opening up a cart.

  
"In the riverlands. Will go through the Twins to sell them around the towns. They pay good coins for thick furs there. At least that's what Mother told me". Bear islands, the land of Mormonts was poor in crops and coin. But rich in furs and ambers.

  
"You have starred a lot of work around here,” Dacey said after touring the grounds.  
Jon gave her a shrug. "Thought of preparing for winter early."

  
In the Children's Tower Jory was training some new recruits. As he screamed "shield wall", the recruits responded by put their oval oaken shields overlapping each other, ready to hack with their weapons. They were armed with new axes and sparring armor made by the castles new smith. Jory wanted to train them in swords first, but swords were costly and they didn't have enough steel. So Ternesio, the new smith started hammering out ax heads. He was a resourceful man after all. He introduced a new method of building armor with banding bronze with iron to built scales and plates. The armor was cheap in the making bur just as much as efficient as plate armor. Jon himself used a half-helm and scaled armor fashioned by him.

Near the training ground, he was hammering the steel. The song of steel on steel woke a hunger in Jon. It reminded him of warmer,simpler days, when he had been a boy at Winterfell matching blades with Robb.

  
"Care for a spar" he said to Dacey, watching her eyeing new type of armors.  
Dacey gave a loud laugh. "Haven't you learned your lessons, Snow? "You need to grow some fur yourself before you can take me.

  
"You flatter yourself, Bear " Jon returned the laugh with a cocky grin. "I'm not the little boy from Winterfell anymore. I will flatten you in few moments."  
However, after seeing Dacey clad in armor head to toe he reconsidered if his decision was a bit immature or not. She was nearly a foot taller than Jon and had twenty pounds more on him. Instead of a Training sword, she choose an two-headed ax, swinging it air with a slash.

"Come here Snow. I mean to shed some of the newly grown furs of yours. "  
Jon took a step forward and met the double ax with his shield, easily turning it sideways to slash with his sword. The easily flow clearly surprised Dacey as she staggered backward to regain her balance.  
“ Well, don’t go soft on me now, Mormont” he taunted the heir of Bear Island. “I mean to break a sweat”.

 

 

** XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX **

** Sven **

The summer sun crawls lazily across the horizon, flooding a small coastal valley with the light of the early morning. Svensholm is a small Nordic homestead, near the village of Kattegat, with a central hall and a few outbuildings. The longhouse had thick walls which keep it cool in summer and prevents freezing in winter. The family Of Sven slept in the main hall around the fire pit along with some of the farm stock. On the top of an outbuilding a cockerel crowed, rousing the farm to life. Putting aside all the plans of the daily chore, the first thought, came to Sven's mind is breakfast.

 

Whilst Ingrid, the farmer's wife, coaxed the embers of yesterdays fire back to life, Sven the farmer helped himself to some of yesterdays left-over stew. It had been left in an iron cauldron. The stew itself also looked rather unpalatable; a thin crust of fat has formed over a brown liquid made up of boiled lamb bones, beans, peas, carrots and turnips. Sven breaked off a hunk of bread, dipping it into the stew. A rather stale crusty flat loaf, this bread was baked last week. He wasn’t a wealthy person by any chance but his farm sure was a the successful one.

"I'll need the boy's help today “he said to his wife. Fortified with a breakfast of bread and buttermilk, Tostig, his son would help his father in the fields. His daughter, Thora would help her mother in house hold chores. The remainder of the harvest has to be gathered in and a lamb needs to be slaughtered. After today’s final work of the harvest, they would have a small feast to celebrated their successful harvest. It was going to be a long day.

Sven used an iron sickle to cut the corn, whilst Tostig used a wooden rake to gather the cut corn into sheaths. Later these would be threshed to release the grains of wheat, rye and barley.

 

They got the new seeds from their new lord, who recently took up residence in the Moat. "Bless the boy “he thought to himself while working.

 

Before the arrival of the new lord, he and his wife had to fight a long, silent battle with the mud, that rains, endlessly washing and drying the horses’ legs and feet, trying to defeat the mudfever. Moving horses from field to field, trying to keep the drainage clear enough to keep the land from becoming a swamp under the cutting hooves. Coming in worn out and soaked time and again, with the fading light. But with the new crops and drainage system the farming was whole lot easier. A veteran of Roberts Rebellion, Sven was no stranger to hardship. But he always wanted to leave a little more than a useless piece of land to his son, unlike his father.

 

After finishing the day’s work , standing outside the house after sunset, Sven could see no light anywhere in the long, shadowed valley stretching away below him. There was only the firelight that showed in the cracks of the shuttered windows behind him to break the absolute darkness of the cloudy night. He could hear no human voice. It was as if the busy world of men and light had gone away, leaving only the little long house and him outside it, alone in the dark with the wind blowing. There was a ominous whisper in the winds. He turned and went inside ignoring it. There was a feast and his family waiting for him.

 

That night, Ingrid's brother Rigsson and his family were invited at the farm. He was a fisherman and had brought fish for his sister’s family. He helped Sven to slaughter a lamb for the feast.

While the lamb was slowly being turned over fire, he looked at the scene in front of him.

His wife and sister in law were chatting about the new families that were coming with the improvement of the moat, planning the best way to welcome them. The children were mesmerized by the tales their uncle was weaving for them.

Between the sweet smell of the lamb roasting and sound of crackle of the wood at the fireplace, for a moment, Sven felt an overwhelming love for life and thought Himself to be the happiest man.

 

His merriment was suddenly interrupted by howling screams. The raiders came out of nowhere, hiding in the fog of swampland. Like demons, they began to destroy the once peaceful home.

 

Rigsson was the first to act. He tried to run for the axe near the fireplace. Before Sven could barely understand what was going on, his brother in law was rewarded with an arrow in his eye. And he was met with the blow of something blunt.

The Iron-born were there for the gold and the gore. They crossed the Blazewater Bay to raid deep in the Moat.

In the middle of the chaos he still had some of his sense, feeling most helpless, unable to do anything for saving his family. His wife and sister in law were trying to shield their daughters from the sea -devils. But a raider put a knife in the heart of his sister-in-law. His wife screamed and tried to grab both of the girls and run behind in the corner. But another merciless Iron-born caught her and slit her throat. . He screamed when the heathen pushed her lifeless body in   the cold ground.

 

Thora was trying to hide in the corner, and a Raider took advantage of his heavy body to pin her small figure against the ground, preventing her from running. He was much stronger than Thora and her fight only infuriated him, until he punched her. Sven tried to get up to stop him to save his daughter with his remaining strength, but someone stabbed him from behind, to put him away for good.

 

As he collapsed on the floor, meeting the lifeless eyes of his wife, he said a voiceless prayer to whatever Gods were listening to save the life of his children’s.

 

** XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX **

** Dacey **

Dacey breathed heavily as she dropped her, axe e to the ground. She was a good fighter—already well-known for her abilities in battle against the wildings. She had been trained to fight since she was old enough to pick up a sword. Her mother saw to it that she would live up to the legacy of Women of Bear Islands.

 

"Nice try, Jon. Maybe next time I will let you win," the female warrior joked as she worked to catch her breath.

 Jon let out a small chuckle and wiped the sweat off his brow.

 They spent a great deal of time out under the Children's Tower training with each other. Like they used to back in Winterfell, whenever her mother visited the Capital of North. After they had finished, they would visit the godswood to to visit the hot springs

 Jon had been one of Dacey's friend ever since she met the Stark bastard-born child. As a young girl, she had been raised around the warriors, always preferring it to girlish activities. And Jon had the same of warrior spark in him.  Robb Stark was always doted on by the female members of other houses, but she always preferred the sullen -quite boy. 

 

 Dacey collapsed on the ground. Her heart still raced from the training that she and Jon had just finished. She closed her eyes as she felt him take a seat next to her.

 

"So How does it feel to leave your home?" She knew this was a subject that she should tread lightly on. Jon was very enthusiastic in the training, but she could easily see the sadness in his eyes. 

 The boy grunted and shrugged his shoulders. " I miss Winterfell. My family too."

 "And are you going visit it soon?" she asked. Jon's reply did not surprise her.

 "No. Not until I'm finished created a name for myself.” Jon replied shortly.

 She decided to drop the conversation. She could tell that he did not want to talk about his home.

 

"Ask me a question," he spouted out of nowhere.

 

Dacey grinned and looked over at the dark-haired boy. Every time they sat down to have these talks, Jon would request that she ask him a question. Regardless of the fact how much he already told her  about himself.

 "Tell me about the work you have been doing in here. Especially how you got that new sword of yours" 

Jon let out a laugh. And took a more comfortable lying position.  It took a lot of time for Jon to tell her about the Moat and his future plans for it.

Through the corner of her eye, Dacey could see Jon pausing every few moments to think about something before starting again. As much as she knew about him, she had a feeling that Jon wasn't telling her everything.

 

The two laid together again in silence after he finished.

 

"I have not a single doubt that your father is proud of you, Jon." She spoke up, reading his mind. "You have held yourself amazingly."

 For the first time since she had laid down, she turned her head to look at Jon. She could tell by the expression on his face that he was deep in thought.

 "May I tell you a secret?" Dacey smirked. Jon's eyes met with hers and he nodded his head. "Out of all of Eddard Stark's sons, I must say that you are the best."

 Jon chuckled pulling his friend close for a hug. "That is no competition," he chuckled as her head rested in the crook of his neck. She laughed at his joke and closed her eyes as she relaxed against him. In the split of a second, he brought his fist around to the side of her head, and began rubbing it into her hair rapidly, knotting it up.

 He burst out laughing as she rose from her position on his shoulder and smacked him hard on the chest.

 "Why do you do that," she fussed as she used her fingers to try to take out the knots that Jon had just put in her hair.

 Still laughing, he replied "It looks good that way"

 "We must go," she stated as she finally quit detangling her hair, hoping she had gotten all the large tangles, and that her hair was laying down the way it was supposed to.

 Jon still laying in his position, looked up at her. A chunk of her knotted hair was shaped like a wing on the top of her head. He smirked at her as he rose to a sitting position.

 The friends talked as they walked through the woods—discussing the feast that would be held tonight to celebrate the harvest.

 

 

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

Dacey sat beside Jon as the feast was served. Being the heir of bear Island, she was given the place of high honor right beside the Lord’s Table. Jory, the master at Arms and his sergeants were seated there too.

 As she sat there, she could not help but stare at Jon. She felt like she was looking at one of the carved faces of old gods itself. The boy was way too matured for his age. His sad eyes scanned the room as though he wanted to be anywhere else at the moment. When his eyes met hers, her heart stopped dead in her chest. He stared at her for what seemed like eternity—as though he was looking deep inside her soul and navigating through all of her wildest dreams and darkest fears.

 And then his eyes dropped to the table as he reached for his drink.  Ghost, his massive pet wolf sprawled by the fireside, looked up from gnawing on a bone, as he scratched behind Its ear. Chills ran down her spine as her eyes rushed around the room, searching for anything to look at—besides Jon Snow.

 

The women began to bring out the dishes, an onion soup flavoured with Fish and vegetables. Boiled rice was the main dish and was served in plenty. Not a lordly fare, but it was warming and filling. Plus the bounties of the swamp land were in full display. Catfish, claws of mud-crab, Bass, Perch was stacked on the tables. And an elk was being carved.

Wine from White Harbor, was there too. A delicacy for the Northerner's. They were careful in filling their cups, not to spill any of it. _None of them had much of it up in these marshes...._

Between the courses, Jory had led her out on to the floor to dance. Jon was pressured by his men to Join, he outright refused. Claiming he might injure someone in the process. Dacey couldn't help but laugh at him. She knew how much Jon hated dancing.

Haldur, one of the sergeants was all grace. He grabbed a serving girl, Lyn she thought the girl's name was, spinning her on the floor. The poor girl was all red on embarrassment, clearly never had a chance of dancing before.

 Several of the men were playing pipes and drums. Making the atmosphere as merry as possible. A feast with a chance of full belly dinner and wine was as rare as a Dragon in Moat. _No doubt the people are happy here today._

As Dacey was washing down the roasted elk with some of wine, a man came rushing in to the table from outside, all covered in mud, his chest heaving up and down.

He immediately went to Jon's table, started to slip word's in his ear with a urgent tone. She followed Jory and his men there.

"They came in several groups, m'lord. In three Ships ". Dacey heard the man saying. “They attacked Kattegat but were driven off by the villagers. But several farms were raided.Many were slaughtered"

"How many did they kill?". Jon's voice was dangerously low, eyes burning like embers.

 

"Quite a few. But some of the villagers said that they took a lot of the Children with them. No doubt to serve as thralls.”

"Fucking Iron-borns" Dacey thought to herself. Village of Kattegat was in the mouth of Blazewater. Jon told her of his plans to build a trading port there. _No doubt he is pissed._ She was no stranger to these raiders as well. Bear Island was a warzone whenever the ice melted from the sea. Bringing down the raiders from west.

She jumped from her thoughts as the sound of Jon's fists meeting the table nearly shook the whole room. There was total pin drop silence around him.

"Prepare the men" he ordered Jory in a calm voice. "The new recruits too."

"My Lord, they are surely half way to Iron Islands now ". Jory tried to reason, clearly worried about the rushed action. “We’ve no means to pursue them."

 

Jon silenced him with a glare. "We will take the long-ships. The Men,Captain. Now."

Jory and the sergeants left immediately.

 

"Me and My men will join you” Dacey said, as she signaled them to get ready to join the Jon's guards.

"This is not your fight, Dacey” Jon told her. “I can't ask you or your men to join me in my fights and die”

 

"If It’s with the Iron-born, Its my fight as well.  They have killed enough of my people. Let's go kill some fucking iron-borns." she announced, drawing her axe.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry For the long ass delay. I could barely lift a finger due to exam pressure.  
> this chapter is sort of a mess. So sorry for that as well.


	5. Burning Land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an ancient riddle. What is stronger than steel? Blood was our answer. Blood and Fury.
> 
>  
> 
> _992 AC, Saga of Bloodhair._

** Jon **

The sun was setting over the western horizon. The last light of the day giving way to the cold of night. Down in the village the villagers and soldiers were preparing the ships with masts and sail. Filling them with water and ration for the journey ahead. The smallfolk were  worried about the idea of crossing the sea to attack the Iron-borns in their own territory but they all agreed that the barbarians must pay for their heinous crimes.

Back in the main hall of the village, Jon was feeling sick to his stomach at the scene in him. He had killed men before, but those interactions were short and quick. Still the faces of those men haunted him from time to time. They managed to catch an injured Iron-born who was abandoned by his war-band during the raid.

Sobbing filled the air as a young man of probably twenty years grabbed his arm. Bruises, dark and angry, covered the skin along the limb as well as a strange bump near the elbow that seemed a bit too sharp to be a minor injury. "Please, please, please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, let me go.....please.” The cry escaped the man's lips before he could quiet himself from the hard blow he received and met with cold grey eyes.

"I'll let you go" Jon told him in a emotionless voice, suppressing his repulsions. "If only you tell me who sent you. Where are you from? "

The prisoner sobbed some more before spilling his secrets. His company was from Blacktyde, northernmost part of Iron Islands. The lord of the house, Baelor Blacktyde thought of the newly forming villages of Moat as fertile ground for reaping. Jon had a sudden thought of splitting that fools head with his axe; perhaps it would enlighten him a bit about the consequences.

 

Sighing, Jory got up from the mess in front of them. "If we want to catch them unaware, we need to leave now. We've wasted too much time as it is"

Jon nodded in agreement. "Lead the men in to the ships. I'll grab some healers equipment and join you at the dock." They had near a hundred men from the Castle and the village. Some cangromen who came to trade at the markets also joined them. "Take this man with us, He can help us with the navigation."  

 

Kattegat was located in the shores of a Fjord in Blazewater. The village had its market place in the center and the houses built around it. Not a large place but Jon was having trouble, finding his way to the healer’s house.

 

After Wondering a while, through the muddy streets He thought of asking someone about the direction. He was startled when he heard the footsteps nearby. Ghost wasn't anywhere near at the moment but his senses were sharp enough to detect the faint noise. It took a while for her to catch up with him. Jon waited until she came into full view. The girl was about his age, carrying a basket of peaches. Strands of silver hair were flashing through her hood _. White Hair?_. _That’s strange_. That was the that first thought came to his mind.

"My lady" he addressed the girl politely, not wanting to scare her of a stranger.”Can you show me the way to the house of Kattegat's healer? "

 

"Oh hello there" the girl said wearily. "Are you here to kill me?” There was no fear in her voice, just weariness. But her eyes seemed like she wasn't joking at all.

 “No!" Jon cried. Why would she even think that? He surely didn't look like a raider.  

"My name is Jon Snow. I'm the lord of this village. No harm is going to come to you, Lady" He  introduced himself, thinking that would probably calm the lady. "I'm just looking for the healer's house."

"Oh. That's alright then." The girl's voice sounded tiny and unsure. "This all seems like it has happened before. Long ago...." She seemed snapped of her ramblings suddenly. Rhae, she said her name was. 

 

 The healer lived just behind a large oak tree. The house had large antlers of elks and skins of various animals on outer wall, making it more like a wood-witch's cave rather than a house. "Be careful of him." Rhae warned him. "Everyone calls him all-father. And he looks scary."

 "But he always has been nice to me. Only person after mama. Everyone else just didn't notice or didn't care." She seemed sad then. Jon wanted to ask what happened to her or if he could help in some way. But Rhae just waved and went to her way.

 

 After entering the house, Jon's eyes slowly managed to focus. He was in a small room, with a hearth fire burning less than a few feet away from him. The air smelled of oil and old herbs, and the walls of the room were adorned in bones of various animals. A man in black was standing over him, features inscrutable under a dark hood. The figure was wearing nothing but black; black furs, black boots, black hood.He looked a brother of the Nights watch when they used to visit Winterfell.

There was a rustle of feathers and cawing. All around the room, Jon could saw figures of half a dozen ravens rustling around him. They flapped everywhere, two of them landing on the figure’s shoulder. He did nothing to brush the birds off.

 

 

Jon could smell something else too, a pungent tone filled the air. Fresh blood and slaughter. It was coming from the strange man.

He tried to speak. But felt his words suddenly stuck up in his throat.

"Come” the stranger commanded him. Too long I've kept an eye for you in the shadows, Jon snow. He waved his hand at the fireplace. "Don't be afraid."

 

"You know who I am? " Jon was stunned for a moment, before he could think of what to say... "I believe we've never met”

 "No" the man in black agreed. "Not in this lifetime anyway.”He handed him a horn of ale. "But I know you, as I did your father, as his father before him."

This was going nowhere. "I am in sort of a hurry, healer. I take it you know of what happened in the village today. “Jon told him in a low voice as he accepted the ale. "If you would show me your accessories. I need some healing herbs and bandages" 

 

"Oh Yes. Starks and their eager thirst." the man beckoned him closer. "Come closer, lad"

 

Jon was shocked to see the man's face up close. He was missing an eye. That empty hole reminded him endless darkness and of death. He was of medium height, sharp face, slender, one remaining eye that was blue like the frost. There was no crown on his head, no golden arm rings, no jewels, not even a gleam of silver. Yet he radiated authority like one of the old kings of Winter. His black cloak seemed like and shadow, taking appearance of Heart-tress and giant serpents in blink of an eye, or _Was he just seeing things._

The man raised Jon's chin with one finger. "Listen to the ice, my child. It speaks to you. It's in your blood. My blood. For you are a Nord. And they will hate you all the more because of it. "

 

"Who will...." the man stopped Jon before he could finish his sentence.

"You will face some of them soon. When your blood boils in battle, feed on the righteous rage burning inside you. Use it to destroy your enemies. Be bold, my son. Be merciless, Be a Nord"

 

He gestured at the back of room with one hand in front of confused Jon. "You will find your medicines at the back”

 

By the time he got back gathering bandages and Kingsfoil by the handfull, the room was empty. The Erie atmosphere was gone too. It seemed like just any other poorly made houses in village.

Dacey nearly ran over him when he got out of the house. With an old man in her tow. "Here, I have found the man. Let's get what we need and get out of here”

"I got them” Jon informed her. "The healer gave them to me already."

 

"Beg your pardon, my lord. I'm the only healer in this village “the old man protested.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The world was grey darkness, smelling of salt and rotten moss and cold. Pale mists rose from the black sea as they rowed their way to the Castle Blacktyde, down toward the welcoming fires strewn like jewels across the beach. There were lots of fires than Jon could count, separating the stronghold from the houses of the town.  The fingers of his sword hand opened and closed in anticipation of the upcoming combat.

 The ships were silent in the water, as well the men on it. They had nearly a hundred men on them. All of the fifty castle guards were present. Armed with swords and axes, with scaled armor and half-helms on. Jon kept checking and double checking if his own arms were in place, putting his helm on and off, trying to ease off the nervousness.  The rest of men were local recruits who joined the guard recently, Bear Islanders and the cangromen archers. Each of them had fear in their eyes, as Jon looked at the men around him. Only one inch of hard wood was protecting them from the freezing water of the western sea. Even the high waves and shakings of the ships were terrifying enough to make all of them forget the upcoming battle. _Tonight We all are right to be afraid._

The sky changed from Dark to dawn, then again dark when they reached the island. The night was black, filled with the rushing sound of the weeping water. It was a pleasant sound that covered the noise of their disembark from the ships. The long-ships were truly living up to their reputation as Zhing said they would; they were able to sail up just a few yards away from the shore.

 

They stayed away from the main roads, creeping around the sand shrubs to get closer to the castle. The people in it was probably still drunk and asleep from celebration of a successful raid as there were no sound of life at all, making the atmosphere around like a graveyard.

The cangroman, a man from House Fenn leading the party suddenly stopped and held up a hand. A hand movement brought Jon to him, as he pointed out what he had seen, smoke coming out from the castles and two lone sentries patrolling the battlements.

 

"You and the men stay here, my lord while we go take a look" the short statured man said. Jon nodded and signaled his captains and Dacey to move closer.

 "Once we get rid of the sentries Dacey and I will climb the wall to open the main gate." he whispered in a low voice.

 "Haldur", the sergeant crouched in. "you will take ten man and the cangromen to light the Town houses on fire, cutting off any reinforcement possible. Stay out of sight and be careful. Jory will lead the main party as soon as the gates are open."

 

The leaders nodded in agreement and went to give instructions to their own man after Jon laid out the plan. After a few moments passed, what felt like hours, the mudmen crouched their way forward.

"There's no one else between us and the castle. The town is fast asleep" he spoke.

 

"So, we managed to finally catch the bastards unaware” Jon replied in the same low tone, relieved. Ironborns never battled strong people who were ready to defend their homes and possessions, instead choosing the defenseless. They were about the get their own way to pay the Iron-price.

 He signaled everyone to get ready. The men didn't need to be told twice, as checked their weapons and armor. Jon picked up the climbing spikes, as he shared a smile with Dacey. In a while, he was surrounded with men armed with Castle forged short swords, round shields, axes and steel-tipped bows.

 

Haldur and his Party left immediately for the town. Discarding their heavy armor and tipping their arrows with oil covered rags.

 

Jon waited twenty heartbeats before telling his men to nock their arrows, moving as close as possible to the Castle without alerting the sentries, as the rest fanned out behind.

"Draw”. Haldur should be close to the town by now. He mumbled to himself. The men-at-arms from Winterfell kept thier aim steady. "Aim for the sentries. And.....loose!"

It worked perfectly. Nothing but the faint sound of arrows flying disturbed the night. The guards were hit multiple times in their head and bodies as they went down.

Jon ran for the gate as fast as could with Dacey trailing behind then. They swung their spikes hard across the wall to get a solid hold and started climbing.

The interior was poorly built, with the outbuildings surrounding a dim lighted main keep. All of them were quite far away from the gate. No one seemed to be near the gates either. Jon noticed all this in a single glance, before going down to open the gate. Dacey kept watch from the ramparts in case any iron-born spoiled their plan.

 

After lifting the heavy bars, the He grabbed a lit scone from the gate and signaled for the waiting men outside that they have been successful.

The war-band on the other side got up from their crouched position and took off a slow pace toward the now open gate. They charged under cover of the night, careful not to wake up any alarm.......... Just yet.

 

A woman was the first one to see them. Probably it was wide open gate, sound of a hundred man marching nearby or just their bad luck. She gave a scream before Dacey shut her up with a throwing axe. But it was enough to alarm the other sentries on the walls and towers. 

 The iron-borns didn’t immediately catch on the facts that they were under attack. A few of them near the gates came out from the buildings to inspect the scream.  As they got closer, Jon and Dacey had no option but to charge them. Quickly the place was filled with screams of commoners as the rest flees away.

 The other sentries quickly sounds the horns. Hearing the screams outside and the horn, half naked warriors without armor start to pool in from different direction to fight the intruders.

 

Bear Islanders are the first to make it inside the castle for the Northmen followed suit by Rogvild and some of the Moat guards. Jon charged forward at a enemy soldiers at the front line. With quick reflexes he dodged the axe then promptly hacked the man's arm off, finishing off with a cut on the back. Dacey joined him as they tried to cut their way to the main keep but more iron-born warriors kept pouring in.

 

"There's too many of them" Dacey shouts amid the heaviest fighting, her body already covered in blood. "Where's Jory!!"

 "He's trying to keep the new recruits in line behind us" Rogvild replied from the other flank.

 

There was no answer from Jon as he is preoccupied not getting skewered by a spear. He puts his sword through a soldier's eye. He quickly turned and stabbed another enemy in the gut. A blunt blow was deflected by his shield and he punched the offender first then knocked him out with the butt of his sword before dispatching another soldier with a slash.

 Then their army got in through the gate. “Finally” Jon thought and then saw the rest of their lagging infantry arriving, hot on the heels of the charge.

 Seeing the rest of the Northern army only made the Iron-born more desperate. They tried to flank the arriving men, charging around a house near the gate.  Sensing the Group would be outflanked, Jon ordered Rogvild to take his men from the front row to intercept them. But he himself ended up getting exposed all by himself to the enemy.

 

"Fuck" he cursed as a heap of Iron-born charged at him, trying to get through the now free space. The words from the strange man in Kattegat came to his mind. Be _Bold._ That's what he said. He decided to stand his ground then. He was a wolf _. And wolves don't flee in face of danger._

 He avoided the charge and cut through an enemy soldier. His sword glistening with blood as he swung again to cut a spear in half and then an arm. An arrow grazed his shoulder then hits one of his men behind.

Behind him Jorry gave a shout to fall back.. Which is met with cheers from the Iron-born. But quickly dies down. "They are not retreating!!. They are regrouping!" yells a captain. "Form a shield wall, scums. Push them back. "

 

Jon somehow managed to get back to his own men, as the Iron-born were trying to form up a wall to push out their enemies. But he had other plan. "Throw the spears!" he ordered the soldiers. The hail of missiles quickly took down the ravagers who had the shields, disorganizing them again.

Northerners quickly put their shields forward as Jory called for the shield wall. Jon discarded his battered shield and drew his axe. _It was time for one final charge._

 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

 

The sight ahead of him was brutal, full of blood and gore. He himself had several minor cuts and bruises all over. And his face and head were so full of blood that it looked like he just made a fresh kill with his teeth. All around,the street was full of Iron-born, dead or dying. They seemed almost naked without their armor on. Some probably just came running from their drunken sleeps. Dacey was busy helping one of her men to stand up. That one had a nasty gash to his forehead. The friends made eye contact across the place as Jon gave her a nod of appreciation.

Jory and his own men  were searching through the dead bodies, occasionally stopping to put wounded enemies out of their misery. When they reached him, he gave the order for them to follow up to the living quarters of the castle, where all those who didn't take part in the battle were probably was.

 

Behind them the town was burning. The scouts did a wonderful job lighting the fires. Even from a distance the faint shape of people running to and fro was recognizable.

 "Kill everyone who is still breathing in the castle and buildings" he grabbed Jory's arm, much to the shock to his captain.  "Up to every single man. We can't take risk of them finding out and charging us with unprovoked assault on one of the lords of the realm." It was a cruel decision. To kill defenceless servants and maids. But necessary to protect his own people. He had to do it.....he had to _be_ _merciless._

 "They will know all the same Jon". Even the illiterate iron-borns weren't dull enough not to recognize their foe.

_Not now though. Not here._ They couldn't take any chance risking a full blown war with Iron-Islanders. "All the same Jory, we don't take any prisoners here or leave anyone alive ,so that they can't come back to raid us even greater numbers."

 Turning to the mass gathered around him, he shouted. "Take everything that is not nailed down." much to the cheer of the soldiers in promise of wealth and plunder. "Find the children who were taken if they are in the dungeons. And Burn the castle to the ground!!"

 

Amidst the cheer, one old soldier drew his sword and came forward. Jon recognized him as one of those who lost kin to the raid. "Lord Bloodhair!" he thundered pointing the sword at Jon. At first, Jon was confused of the title. But it cleared as he felt his head,smeared with blood of those who he had sent to afterlife tonight. All around him, the man took up the cry one by one, drawing their swords and shouting: This was the moment when they recognized him as _a Nord._

"Bloodhair!"

"Bloodhair!"

"BLOODHAIR! "

** Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx **

****

** Sansa **

Six moons had passed since Sansa had last seen her half brother Jon. Her mother and the septa would probably scold her for even thinking of the bastard, but Jon had always been the nicest brother to her in their little family. While she and her other siblings shared the red hues of House Tully along with their bluish eyes, Jon had father's dark hair and shades of grey belonging to House Stark and his kindness. He also seemed to care for her in a way the rest of the family didn’t seem too. So his leaving had hit her hard, way more than she let on in fear of disappointment from her mother. Her and Arya both.

 

Currently she was walking to the orphanage of Winterfell on her own. Some deliveries of special treats and clothes made by her mother and her company needed to be delivered to the poor children. Bran and Arya had a slight fever so their mother was keeping them home and Beth and Jeyne were still on their sewing lessons. So she was on her own. Well, sort of. She still had one of the guards and her nurse with her who were carrying the bundles, as her father wouldn’t let her wander on her own.

 

When she was younger, a family of three of a cobbler came to Winterfell once. Who lost all their possessions due to some accidental fire. Cold and half starved, they even caught some skin disease. Father arranged for them to stay at a guard’s house for the night before he could find them a permanent solution. But the guard’s wife didn't want the dirty beggars in her house. So she gave them some blankets and told them to sleep outside. Both of the parents of that family perished that night due to cold. Leaving only the child miraculously alive somehow.

That incident hurt her father beyond anything Sansa her ever seen. She didn't understood what was the issue. So he explained: how can he look after all the North when he failed to save only two people. A lord was like a father with hundreds of children. It was his duty to look after his children and he failed at it.

So with the expansion of Winterfell and the Wintertown, the Orphanage and public tavern was built with special care. Now it held over a hundred poor children who lost their parents due to one reason or another. All being brought up at the expense of Winterfell's coffer. And any poor hungry man could now get a plain but hearty meal for free if they couldn't fend for themselves.

 That was her father. Eddard of House Stark. Honorable and strong. As his eldest daughter, she hadn’t inherited much from him, in terms of physical characteristics. But, she had learned his lessons of duty well that day.

 As she got close to the orphanage, Several other children yelling her name and pulling her into their play greeted her. She tried to happily run towards them, before her nurse stopped her. Reminding her that she took her bath already and her lady mother won't be happy finding her dress covered in mud. Sansa tried not to make a face at her as it was unexpected for a lady. So she just settled in for distributing the things she bought from Winterfell, enjoying the look of joy from the children.

 

Time passed by far too quickly as it always did when she was enjoying herself. The matron had called the other children in to prepare for dinner and her guard was motioning her to get on her own path home. As they walked towards Winterfell she chatted happily with her nurse, telling her all about the things the children had shared, even though she was right beside her. The nurse, Helen knew better not to interrupt the princess of Winterfell, just shared her smile and nodded. 

 

"My lady Stark" The sudden call had her guard spinning on his heal, pushing Sansa behind him, hand on his sword, but got on ease at the next moment.

 Sansa, ever so curious simply popped her head out from behind her guard to see who had spoken. It was a man, not too tall by the looks of it, his face rather worn and tired from a long journey. She recognized the man as Orys, one the past guards of Winterfell who went to south with Jon. He was on a wagon with two other men.

 "Orys" her guard greeted warmly. "Didn't expect you back so soon."

"Neither did I, my friend." Orys had a serious expression now. "Have urgent news from the Moat for Lord Stark , sent by the young Jon . And some gifts as well I might add. "

 

"I'll take them” Sansa interrupted, still curious about the news of South and the gifts too.

 The guards simply bowed their head, reserved only for the princess of Winterfell. She was too old now for games of Knights and Maidens but the gesture still pleased her. The other guards cleared the seat for her in the wagon,as Orys whistled the horses to move forward.

 

She found her father in his chamber, going through a book as he paced around the room. He was wearing a long cloak of leather with a black doublet. His face broke into a smile reserved for only his family when he saw his eldest daughter. "Come in. Did you need something my child?"

 

"Jon sent a letter from the south father. And a wagon full of gifts for all of us." she handed him the letter.

However, as her father opened the seal and went through the letter his face started to change ending up forming an O. If it was someone else, Sansa would have thought it was rather comical.

"Is something wrong father" she questioned.

 

"Oh, no. No. Jon has sent gifts for all of us” He replied. “Go find your sister and brother and open them. There are silk dresses from White Harbor for you girls" he tried to sound cheerful. "Go"

 

As she gave her father a nod happily to go find her promised gifts, father stopped her. "Sansa" he said in a strangely quiet voice. "Would you please tell the Guard outside to fetch Robb, Ser Rodrick and the Maester? I need quick a word with them. "

** New Sigil of House Snow **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> [Songs Of War](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-iVNmP00Hb0)
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> This is probably the best GoT original tribute song I've ever heard. Y'all can definitely give this one a go.


	6. Call Of The Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't see this update in the tags of the story. I mean If I go to Jon/Val tag it's not there. If someone knows what to do please tell me in the comments

** Jon **

 

The white wolf raced through the dark forest, paws crunching in fresh fallen snow. The stars were fading in the sky, but the night was still alive. Alive with a thousand scents, with pine and dirt and prey burrowed in the ground.

The wolf followed this last trail, followed fur and claws and a tiny beating heart, and brought his teeth down with a snap. Hot blood poured into his mouth, and the wolf was satisfied as he lay on the ground and tore apart his kill.

A twig snapped and the wolf turned. He found a familiar scent on the air. A scent that pushed the wolf back to four paws.

A very faint sound of hooves beating upon the ground in a thumping gait and dark leaves whipping in the air was audible after waiting a few moment. The moon shone menacingly overhead overhead as a low snarl accompanied silent paws flashing through the undergrowth. Prey. Hunt. Kill.

 

The wolf bounded across the thick snow with practiced ease. The scent was getting thicker now. It was heading further north, further up through the mountains and towards a large glacier. He could see the white icy spikes in the distance. The air was cold even under thick fur, but the wolf hungered. It would be a large elk - probably weakened and hungry itself. It would be good prey, worth the hunt.

The landscape cracked into rolling valleys and frozen rivers across the rocky, snow covered ground. The glacier was thick in the distance, looming over the world like a blue and black wall of solid, serrated ice. Only the toughest soldier pines trees stood amidst this mountainous ground. The elk’s smell became sharper, more vivid on the fierce wind. The scent was stronger than expected. It wasn't a weakened elk; it smelt more like a young buck. A strong beast, one hardy enough to survive the cold. It would be a more difficult hunt, then, but still a worthwhile one.

The wolf approached the glacier slowly. The temperature dropped further. That caused the wolf to pause. The air was thick with an unnatural cold. The wolf hesitated. His every hair was suddenly on edge.

The wolf felt the warning in the wind. The wind howled through the canyons, a low shriek emanating through the world.It felt the darkness in the air before it smelt the scent. The scent of death. Without warning, the wolf turned and ran.

The direwolf wasn't easily scared, but it was afraid now.

The cold was creeping over the mountains. It was heading south.

The smell of death followed.

The sound of howling whistled in the echoing over the mountains.  
The situation was overturned in a flash. The predator was the prey now.

The wolf burst from a under bush,growing, it's powerful jaws snapping ferociously.

_South. Need to go to south._

The chase stopped after a while. A new scent was in the air. Smoke and blood. The wolf was no stranger to it. Smoke meant fire. Fire was protection.

It nearly stumbled in front of the small fire, the long legs couldn't take much of pounding. There was a man attending the flames. The man rolled back his hood and turned his head,grey eyes gazing curiously. He had a long single braid, his head shaved on both sides. Runes of first men were carved around the shaved spaces. A sword was slung on his back.

Around them the cold stopped. And the scent of death began to turn into dark shadows. Probing at the blanket of warmth emerging from the fire. Looking for a way in.

The man got back up from his crouched position, drawing his sword. The sword was fire itself. Radiating heat and light, it was drawing power from the earth. The flames began to change their shape. Dragons and Direwolves, Bears and Giants, Moose and Mermen with tridents. And many more. He brought the flaming down as they all charged together at the shadows.

Thousand of leagues South Jon Snow roused suddenly to his ragged breath. He slowly opened his laden eyes, trying to get up.

The snout of his wolf collided right with his head.  _Ghost._

  
The wolf was staring right into eyes. He could still feel the phantom sensation of snow under his paws, the memory of hunting and being hunted. Freedom and Fear together.

Several moment passed quietly, before the wolf started licking at his face like it was totally normal.  _Nope. That won't do._

"Don't do that". Jon shoved his wolf off him, turning in his bed to get back to sleep after the crazy dream. Just one of few hundreds. It was nothing new.

Though the dream was different. It felt more like a memory rather than a warg dream. And the message was clear. North. The Gods wanted him to go North.

 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

 

Jon read his letters, while eating his breakfast silently in his long-hall. The stew was delicious. Made of bone broth, and boiled small shrimps, clams, wild greens with rare spices imported from White harbour. But his father's instruction was preventing his merriment. _I am tired of hearing his little instructions to be a good little boy playing with a Lordship._

He almost burned the parchment in annoyance. Instead he took a sip of mead,brewed right in Snowfall for trading with other houses. _I have to do something._  Lord Stark wanted him to give up some of his responsibilities to Jory and continue his lessons under the new maester who would arrive from Oldtown. "Like hell I will." he thought.  _The Moat belonged to me. I'm not giving up my right to anyone ._

  
It was a relief when Arney,his steward opened the door to tell him that the men from House Reed have arrived. Jon sent the letters aside. "Tell them to come in." He was tad nervous about the trade deal he was going to make with them. "Gather the guests in the hall. I will join them after this. "

 

"They're already in the hall, my Lord. Everybody is happy about the wedding and drinking,but none wants to move their butts to do the works." He walked off muttering about unnecessary feasts and slobs. Haldur and Lyn was getting married under the blessings of Jon in his new hall in Snowfall. Unfortunately for Arney, he was the Castle steward and arranging the whole affair landed on his head. Literally.

 

The men took a bow as they entered the room. Both men were dressed in primitive fibre woven clothes,animal skin cloaks draped over them. "Lord Reed sends his greetings, my lord." One of them spoke up who introduced himself as Brother of Lady Jeyne Reed. "What he can do for a mainlander lord,pray tell? "

"As you will " Jon began,sensing that they wanted him to take lead. "You know what happened on our raid to Iron Islands, I take it?. It was necessary to make the Islanders realise that they are not welcome in our shores. That purpose was successful for us to say the least. But it left our western neighbours very unhappy." Iron-borns were not just unhappy,they were literally out for blood and vengance. They increased their raiding lot more as a response. Not all of the raids were successful, but those were successful left  bloody corpses and burned buildings behind, seemingly gone in the blink of an eye.

"Why my lord have chosen us on this matter? " The taller of the two men took a more leaning approach. "We're not off a noble house by any chance. Even our own countrymen look down upon us, calling us mud-men and bog-devils."

Those facts were true though. The battle tactics of cangromen were infamous. Hiding behind the thick foliage of the Neck and picking up their enemies one at a time with poisonous arrows. Effective no doubt, but it also earned them a title of cowardice given by their enemies.

"I need scouts to guard my shores. And more men to fight in my name if the Iron-borns raid in greater numbers. A military alliance to be frank" Jon laid out his plans in front of them. "In return, I will give you crops suitable for your lands. All the iron forged weapons you need. Also the markets of my land will be open for trade. "

Hyet, the brother of Lady Reed waited a while before agreeing to the pact. It made sense for the House Reed,providing good opportunity for them to be recognised as a proper lordly house. Jon poured wine for them to strengthen the treaty, taking a glass for himself. _One more step to secure the safety of the people. Now need to secure my hold over my lands._

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

  
A cheer went up as Haldur took his bride into his arms. The young pair, bit mismatched in age, led all those assembled to the small feasting hall.

 

House Dustin provided the tables, a present to please Jon far more the groom. At the table of honor, Jon sat alone. Around him the notable members of his household, Jory, Rogvild and envoys from the other houses were seated. Most of the guests who made the journey was present on account of business. Members from Houses Reed came because of an invitation to make military pacts. Clans from Flint's Finger had to come because their lands were suffering from increased Iron-born raids. They offered mutual protection treaty in exchange of iron ores from the mountains to supply the forges of the Moat and land for those who wished to farm. House Rysell and Dustin invited themselves in because they needed to get access to the trade of Kattegat for less tax. The port was quickly growing to become a large trading center, commanding the flow of goods between North to Riverlands.

 

The guards and people of Snowfall filled the other two tables. Jon built his long-hall in the village because the continuous construction noises in the castle were becoming too much for him to bear. The hall could bear no more, even if anyone else had been inclined to attend.

 

Soup of turnips, onions, salsify root, and barleycorn; a main course of brazed venison and loaves of spelt-grain bread, boiled rice and a dessert of cranberry pie was modest fare, but nothing to feel poorly about. Most of the food brought by the guests went to the Haldur's new farm that Jon gifted him. Other lordly guests might have taken insult at that, but Jory merely jested that Jon had obviously not forgotten his father’s words in saving this boon for winter. No one appeared put out.

 

During the feast, Haldur acted more refined than Jon expected. He demurely assisted his young bride with the meal, cutting her meat off the bone and even feeding her at times. Lyn blushed at the attention, but her smile never wavered.

 

After the meal, the guests stacked the tables against the wall to make room for dancing. Both the bride and groom were too bashful to begin the revelry, but a jubilant Jory and a wine-besotted Rogvild took the young couple's place by locking elbows and swinging each other about. The attendees supplied their own songs, half singing and half shouting, while stomping out a rhythm on the wooden floor.

He found himself thinking of Winterfell. A dark shadow had hung over the growing peace and prosperity of his people. Jon stayed reserve more than anyone. _Father isn't here. Neither are my sisters or brothers. And I sacrificed my home to gain a castle. Would it be better if he stayed back, burying his ambition to overcome the bastard tag_. It wouldn't certainly be this lonely. 

 

He shook his mind free of old happy memories of loved ones. Turning his attention back to the celebration at hand, Jon smiled inwardly as Jory found himself without a dancing partner at the change; Haldur refused to switch when everyone else did. Lyn gave him a apologetic look

Roar of laughter and thumping of table ensued as proper appreciation to the dance routine were showed. But Jon stayed sober. Touching the drinks placed in front of him,not getting into them. He was a Lord, a Shepherd of men. He needed act like one. A lord must know his men well, from a distance.  _The wise words of Eddard Stark._

  
“The celebration is almost complete,” he said, after a while. “But there is just one more thing.”

The crowd laughed and started to surge forward only stayed by Jon raising his hand.

“Actually, there are two matters I wanted to resolve. I was going to do this later but now would seem to be the time." Jon repeated, addressing the bridal table.

“Haldur and Lyn. You both come from fine families. Families that have demonstrated their loyalty to my House. Without good people such as you we could not have hoped to prevail against the forces opposed to us.” The bride blushed at the flattery and looked down in embarrassment at the table. To Lyn’s side her brother and father glowed with the praise.

"My men from Winterfell." He turned to the men from home. "You've fought and bled with me side by side. As the gods as my witness, I say this. No one can ask for better companions."

Jon turned to face the hall while raising his goblet, shouting the newly selected words of his house. "For our people!!!"

The audience responded merrily, loudly repeating "For our people!!!" and took a drink from their own cups.

"I want to announce Haldur as the master-at-arms here at the Moat. And the duty of the Captain of the guards will be continued by Rogvild". He said in a determined voice.

Around the new appointed officers their friends cheered and shouted. But sitting just under his table Jory looked shocked. He clearly had no idea why Jon would replace him.

"And for Jory Cassel, a man all of us present here look up to and respect " Jon added quickly. " I declare him as the Lord of Kattegat. He and his heirs would hold this title from this day to the end of days."

If Jory was shocked a while ago, it looked like he just had saw a living dragon in front of him. Jon couldn't blame him. He just elevated House Cassel from a sworn house to a lordly status. Given the booming prosperity of Kattegat, their power and wealth would only grow. To ensure his own power over them however, the land grant only gave Jory the rule over the town. The port and all the income from it would go to Jon like before. House Cassel could have their own ships and collect the taxes.

The men overcoming this sudden news, all gathered around him, lifting Jory on their shoulders. Parading and cheering around the hall.

  
Jon sat back in his chair, letting his men to go at it. It would be sad to see Jory leave. He was like family. And losing family so far from home was a rough blow. But it was necessary to secure his power over his own land. Now with Jory having to mind in his own land, father or anyone else wouldn't be able to question his authority.

 

Later in the day, long into the ceremony and after the second singing of The Bear and the Maiden Fair, the men shouted, “The Wolves and the Maiden Fair!” and the bedding ceremony began. With the crowd short on women and long on men, Haldur was pushed to the stairs partially clothed, while Lyn was carried overhead and down to her smallclothes before she was out of the hall. The rest of the men followed after them, crowding the rotunda in the middle of the spiraling stairs. Most yelled bawdy jests upward, while Jon and the brides parents shouted for caution, watching her held much higher than the railings.

 

It was a tiring day.

 

**XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

 

**Robb**

Robb Stark, heir to Winterfell and The North gave out a sigh of content as he, Theon, Heirs of House Cerwyn and Tallhart finally reached their destination after staying at the road for two weeks. It was his first command of men without any supervision from elders and he was sure of doing a pretty good job at it. He had to force his father quite hard to let him led the survey of Sea Dragon Point. When Lord Stark said he was too young for this job, he argued that Jon Snow, his brother, was of the same age and doing a wonderful job at managing his own land. Not wanting this comparison to reach up to his wife's ears, his father quickly gave up.

 

Robb understood the point clearly where he was coming from. If Catelyn Stark heard of her husband's bastard son surpassing her own children, it would mean catastrophe. When his mother heard the absurd rumors of Jon Snow invading Iron Islands and killing thousands of people, she ran to his father's solar foaming at the mouth, demanding Jon to be brought back at once and be punished as harshly as possible, fearing the start of another full blown war. Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrick tried to withstand the fury for a few moments, then retread quickly. Personally, he couldn't understand what the issue was, if a few Iron-born were killed while trying to raid the North. They clearly deserved it. Also the secret party that was going on in the Guardhouse as a celebration of North's victory, was far more inviting, so he bailed as well. Leaving his father alone to deal with the raging storm.

 

When Robb first saw the Castle of Sea Dragon point, he was amazed. He had never been this far west before and he had to admit, it was a sight to see. The area was thinly populated and was filled with hills and bogs. On the highest hills stood weirdwood circles, and some ruins of ancient strongholds dotted the landscape. They weren't big but Father had said that they were used for laying the foundations of the new Keep and surrounding buildings.

 

The castle was on top of the largest hill, where another Keep had once stood. The construction for the keep were already done, and the moat already dug out, all that he had to do was widen the moat and start the survey work.

 

Men from all around the Stony Shore was starting to pool in the under the lands of the keep, claiming small patches of land for their houses in the town. Wolfs-wood men were bringing woods, stone masons from the Mountain clans were bringing supply wagons filled with stone and many more from all over. There were hundreds of men looking for small pay for their trade and more coming every day.

 

Setting his party up in the keep, Robb sent Cley Cerwyn to find Warrick Manderly, a distant member of House Manderly who was serving as the Castellan of the Keep and ship-master. The young Knight introduced him to the ledger and the construction map and he was up to the task. Fortified with the help of Maester's apprentices,all the name of the people coming to live in town were being noted down, exports from the land was being stored and new recruits were being trained as guardsmen. Cley Cerwyn and Benfred Tallhart were busy managing the business of their own houses,setting the route of trading caravans and helping with the building process. Theon was in the docks under Ser Warrick, learning about ships as much as he could,befitting a Seamen.

 

To gain the respect of the men, Robb worked close to the workers. As first he struggled to keep up with the grown men, but they helped their young lord get through. By the end of it, he could proudly say the the men were eyeing him with a new sense of respect and he was helping in creating something that would last long after his lifetime.

 

While working near the wall one day, he was called by a guardsmen to the port, informing a ship was seen coming to the port and Ser Manderly requested his presence . Putting on his cloak quickly, he reached the nearby tower. All the young lords were present as well, excited about the first ship coming to the port.

 

After a few moments however, Theon started to clinch his fists on and off.

  
"What's wrong with you now? " He asked Theon. Surprised at his attitude.

  
"Look at that fucking sail" Theon replied. "Look carefully. "

The sea was a bit misty. But the overall sigil could be seen. Over a long-ship with a dragon prow, a large sail was set, flying Twin Axe crossed over a round Shield banner.  
  
"I still don't recognise it " Robb admitted, a bit ashamed. He finished his lessons on the sigils and the words of the Noble houses a long time ago.

 

"It's the sigil of Bloodhair." It was Warrick who spoke up this time. "Your brother,Lord Robb. Of Jon Snow."


	7. The Sea Wolves. Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rather than concentrating in the story, let us move a few hundred years after. Where the great Norse Age has left an everlasting impact in Westeros and Essos.Its in the Same universe. But this part is in the eyes of modern writers describing the old times in Historical style.

"Wake Early If You Want Aanother Man's Life or Land. No Land For The Lazy Wolf. No Battles Won in Bed."  
\- _Sayinngs Of Rickon The Red, A Collection of The Old Gods.  
  
_

 

 

Just off the west coast of present-day Westerlands, lies the small island of Iona, a grassy promontory with white sandy beaches, rising up out of the Western Sea. Today it is a place of quiet contemplation, relatively undisturbed by the tour groups or visiting school children wandering among its enchanted ruins. Even for those who know, it is easy to forget that twelve centuries ago, these idyllic shores were the scenes of unimaginable violence.   
The monastery of Iona was the symbolic heart of Faith Of The Seven, one of the oldest and most important religious centers in Western Westeros. 

 

In the early centuries, the brothers came to seek seclusion among the ‘desert’ of the Western Ocean, and built simple beehive-shaped stone huts where they could concentrate on their prayers and vows of poverty and obedience. Over time, however, the small community became a major pilgrimage site, and a great medieval center of learning. It developed into a training school for septons with special rooms for the copying of manuscripts called scriptoriums that produced works of art famous throughout Westeros.

 

In 299, however, a ripple of fear penetrated the tranquility. Rumors reached the monks of terrible raids to the east, sister monasteries devastated by strange northern heathens. Early the next year, while the brothers were celebrating a holy day, ships with prows carved to resemble serpents and dragons slipped onto the beach below the main abbey. 

Leaping onto the white sand of a shoreline, which would later bear the name ‘Martyr’s Bay’ in memory of the slain, the raiders headed for the buildings, cutting down the septons they found along the way. Smashing open the doors, they killed anyone who tried to resist, drenching the stone floors of the chapel with blood. Anything that looked valuable was seized, including rich vestments which were ripped off of the bodies of the dead or dying. 

 

As the surviving septons fled in all directions, the attackers set fire to the great abbey and then raced down to the beach with their considerable loot. Seemingly in the blink of an eye they were gone. Left behind were bloody corpses, burning buildings, and a shattered community. 

 

The raids on the Westerlands were only the beginning of a great hammer blow that fell on an unprepared Westorosi Kingdom. The broken bodies and the blackened shells of buildings in places like Iona would be all too common in the centuries to come. 

The suddenness of the violence left many occupants of Westeros disoriented and anxious. The shock and despair can still be felt in the words of Alcuin, an Reachman septon writing from King Joffery’s capital of King's Landing after one of the first raids.  

“…never before in Westeros has such a terror appeared as this we have now suffered at the hands of the heathen.” 

The fact that the word ‘Viking’ still conjures up that image of black-haired barbarians leaping off of dragon ships to plunder a sept – is a testament to the trauma inflicted on Western Faith Of Seven during the three hundred years of the Viking Age. It is burned into our collective memory. 

 

There is, even now, something alien about those northern warriors. The origin of the word ‘viking’ itself is unknown. Contemporary third century records call the raiders ‘Northmen’, ‘Norse’, or ‘Heathen’. The Westlandars and Reachmen, frequent targets of their attacks, did have a word ‘wicing’ which meant ‘sea-raider’, but it first appears only in the seventh century. A better explanation comes from the Vikings themselves. In Old Norse vic meant inlet or bay and the Vic district near the Moat Cailin Fjord was a main source of iron used in sword production. The word ‘Viking’ probably started off as a reference to men from the Vic district and gradually came to include all Northern raiders.

 

Endless speculation has centered on the question of why the Vikings suddenly erupted from their lands in the third century. Theories have ranged from overpopulation and political pressure to climate change and technological innovation.

 

The stories reflect a much older oral tradition, and they allow us to hear the spirit, if not the exact words, of the tales that Viking poets told to pass the long northern nights. They illustrate the Viking mindset in the same way that the Ballads illuminates that of the ancient Targaryens: a true warrior went out, gained riches, built great halls and handsomely rewarded his loyal followers. Glory – and kingships – could only be won on the battlefield.  

 

Fired by this mindset, young Northern men sailed out to the glittering lands to the south and east of The North to win everlasting fame. A measure of their success can be found in the anxious prayers that soon echoed from Westerosi Sept.

The abbey of St. Vaast on the northern coast of Sunspear included in its daily chants the phrase “Deliver us, God, from the savage race of Northmen which lays waste our realms.” It was a sentiment that many would soon share, from Oldtown in the east to the New Found Land's in the West.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys Comment if You like or dislike the chapter and If I should contine this.


	8. A Blood Harvest

** _Robb_   
**

 

Robb spotted the man before the ship made it to the docks. He was standing high on the prow, singing an old rowing hymn. 

  
"Þat kann ek it ellifta:  
ef ek skal til orrostu leiða langvini,  
und randir ek gel,  
en þeir með ríki fara  
heilir hildar til, heilir hildi frá,  
koma þeir heilir hvaðan." 

The crew rowing were repeating slowly, as if echoing each lines. 

  
"If needs I must lead  
To the fight my long-loved friends;  
I sing in the shields, | and in strength they go  
Whole to the field of fight,  
Whole from the field of fight,  
And whole they come thence home." 

  
Robb recognised a few lines in the old tongue, from the lessons the took from Maester Luwin. 

He was taller than him but nowhere near the height of their Father. Was of lean build and had dark locks that fell to his shoulders. But the thing that he noticed the most was the man's piercing black eyes, it was if their gaze was piercing straight through him, shinning in the shadows of the hood. 

The man was wearing a long cloak with what looked to be simple black leather doublet underneath accompanied by simple trousers and riding boots. Pinned to the breast of the doublet was a silver brooch; it looked familiar but he couldn't place where he had seen it before.

Around his waist was a belt that held a sheath in which, what looked to be a longsword. He couldn't see the hilt but the sheath itself looked to be expensive and of high quality.

Judging by his clothes and possessions, he knew that this man had to be either highborn or and extremely wealthy smallfolk. The sword sheath alone looked like it would cost quite a few gold dragons, and most of the small folk went all their lives without ever seeing a single gold dragon. Therefore he had to be highborn, but he wasn't wearing any visible crests or signs of which house he could belong to, so normal people would not have any idea who he was or where he was from. 

  
The long-ship slowly made it's way to the harbor. Workers moved forward to help securing the ropes to the ships sides,making sure it didn't float off. Robb Kept looking as the soldiers disembarked, as the hooded man led them to the watchtower. 

He didn’t look like Robb's brother. The was no similarity to the boy exported from Winterfell to the man standing in front of him now. He could feel his friends surprised responses all around him. Even Theon was so surprised that he forgot to jest. 

A few tensed moments passed before the the man screamed "Brother!!!", startled him and gave him a bear hug. Robb barley managed to return it. 

"What is wrong with you, Robb?" Jon asked him, as he was still trying to overcome his surprise. "Last time we saw each other was only over a year ago. And you act like you've forgot who I am!" 

  
"You tell me, brother" he replied, finally finding his tongue. Punching him slightly in the stomach like they used to when they were kids. Jon buckled a bit to match the pressure. 

"You look so different. You never write. Barely send words.  And How the hell you managed that scar on your face." 

"Leave him be, Robb", Cley and Benfred move forward, elbowing to move Theon along the way. " Allow us to meet the great Lord Bloodhair!!". 

  
Robb took a step back allowing his friends to greet his brother. They immediately started to roughen Jon up but took a step back suddenly. A large shadow stalked forward and gave the Cerwyn heir a heavy headbutt to the stomach. It had enough force behind it to knock him to the ground. Before Robb knew it the creature was standing over Cley, muzzle above his face. Just as he was about to call for the men to kill the animal he noticed he's brother laughing.  

What the fuck is that thing!?" Theon said beside him. "Look at the size of it. It's a freak."

Before any of the men could make a move Jon stuck is hand in the air and told the, not to move and ordered no one to shoot the animal.

"He's mine" Jon called out. "Calm down people." 

  
First Robb thought that it's a giant of a dog. But it was not. Looking more closely he saw that It's legs were longer and head larger than a dog, its muzzle was also longer and more pronounced. A Wolf. His brother had a pet wolf. 

  
Jon slowly pulled the wolf away and gave the leash to his lead man. By then, all his warriors has left the ship, carrying their belongings and weapons in hands, happy to touch their feet on the soil again. He recognised some of them. Guards and serfs who used to live in Winterfell. 

Robb had questions, many of them. On Jon's adventures, on how did he tame a wolf, most of all on how he is. But still allowed the Castellan to show the men to the keep to get their rests.

  
He was somewhat relieved when Jon touched him on the shoulder while passing. "I know you have many question." his brother tells him. "I'll come find you after I'm done setting my men up."  
  


**XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

 

During the night all the men gathered in the dining of the keep to take their dinner. Robb tried to talk with Jon but he was too busy talking with Warrick Manderly, noting down routes on the map, speaking terms on which he had no idea. Eventually he grew tired of just sitting on the high table and went outside towards the training center. 

He stayed in the same spot slashing at the training dummy for about half an hour before he heard footsteps entering the yard. Turning around he saw Jon standing there watching as he worked the sword against the training dummy. Jon gaze seemed to hold a questioning look as if to ask if he would be willing to talk. 

Nodding his head and beckoning his brother over, Robb returned to his training. Jon was standing behind him when he first spoke. "You know, its easier to get more power behind your slash if you widen you stance. Place you leading hand above your other and twist your body as you bring the sword down."

  
Doing as his brother suggested, Robb found he was able to slash harder than before.

"I'm sorry for ignoring you." Jon said in an apologetic tone.

Nodding his head in consent, Robb placed the training sword back in one of the barrels by the armoury and made to follow his brother.

He lead them out of the courtyard and towards the Godswood. Once inside the three acre woods he led them straight towards centre where the goodswood stood. Sitting down on the rock next to the tree, Robb motioned for Jon to join him.

  
"Better start speaking Snow. Or I'll knock your little bloody ass to the ground."

  
So Jon told him. From how he got Ghost, his wolf pup to the raid he lead on Iron Islands, why now he is here. There were little pauses here and there but he decided to ignore that for now. They stayed in silence for a while after Jon was done.He listened as the birds sang and the leaves ruffled. A Stark, even a bastard one,alone in the world was terrible. After a few moments of silence Robb spoke.

"Father was scared you know. He immediately wanted to leave for the Moat to get you back but Ser Rodrick held him. Said to have more faith on you."

The acknowledgement of their father's love made Jon smile. "How's our brother and sister's?" 

  
At that, Robb also smiled. _Home_. He already started to miss it. "Bran has found a new hobby. Climbing the walls of the building. And our sisters miss you. Sansa won't say it. But I know she does too." 

The news from home made his brother happy too. He could see the actual light in his eyes now. From the boy with whom he used to play in Winterfell. "And what about Arya?" 

  
Robb grimaced. Arya was not happy at all that Mother confiscated the gold-hilted dagger that Jon gave him. He took it for himself then and let her play with it when their mother wasn’t around. "Mother was very angry at the fact that you gave her such a gift. She threw it away."

  
Jon waited a while before answering. "I love you brother. And always will. But I Don't give two shits on what your mother thinks." 

They both sat quietly, not speaking the unpleasant things trying to come out from their mouth.  
  
  
"Let's go back." Jon said, after getting up. "I've quite a few surprises for you in the coming days."

 

 

**Jon**

 

The boat swayed with the motion of the oars—forward and back, forward and back. The rocking could never match the exhilaration of being tossed on the open ocean, but it was comforting in its predictability. Jon stared out towards shore, watching the countryside of Bay Of Ice drift by. Beyond the next ridge, a few wisps of smoke coalesced into a pale column. Ulfric, his lead man was quick to point it out, as if Jon had no eyes of his own. “There, a village?”

Jon shrugged apathetically. “Probably.”

The warrior huffed the way he did when he thought his lord was being slow. “Well? Shall we disembark?”

The lord shook his head. “Not here. We aren’t far enough out yet.”

“We passed the last Nothern village days ago.”

“You don’t know that. There a lot more villages inside these mountains.”

“What are we here for, if not to go down and set up a base?”

Jon rolled his eyes. “What is the point of setting up a base in our own lands? If there is any resource worth collecting someone is already there. We need to expand." 

Ulfric was not happy. "Setting up camp in the wildling territory  is suicide, my lord." 

Jon rolled his shoulders. “Perhaps. All the same, we’re not going to that village.” He turned and leaned against the hull, looking out over his men and the other two long-boats beyond them. If Ulfric had had his way, they would still be in Sea Dragon Point. Gathering furs and timbers to be exported in the Riverlands. But Ulfric had little idea about coins and ships. Trafficking goods from one port to another would bring very little gold to his coffers. They would need a more cheaper, plentier  source of imports. And the lands beyond the wall offered a perfect one. Also not all of his men were warriors. Good hunters and sailors perhaps. But not warriors to fight bloody battles. To match the iron-born threat he needed time harden them up. Time to make them seasoned warriors before he could set them up to protect his lands. 

  
His was not a popular opinion, even among his closest allies.

His eyes sought out Robb, perhaps looking for someone more likely to take his side. He found only more frustration. His brother was, thus far, not precisely enjoying his first voyage. He sat curled near the prow, looking—and likely feeling—quite useless. He tried rowing, but was hastily relieved of the duty when he kept fouling the oars. Now, he sat with a whetstone, sharpening an axe that had never tasted blood and certainly didn’t need honing. Same was with Cerwyn and Tallhart. All three of them got sea-sick after the first day. Theon on the other hand was doing much better but decided to stay in one of the other ships. 

  
"Lord", Zhing, the Yi-Tish ship-master pointed out from the steering oar at the noon. They were sailing around the Frozen Shore by then. A massive galley was docked a few yards from what it looked like a primitive village near the sea. Large heap of smoke was visible  from in the horizon. 

Jon gave Ulfric a kick to wake him up who decided it was a good time to take a nap. " What's that doing so far up North." 

  
Zhing was already inspecting it with his spy-glass. "It's a slaver galley Lord. Though I don't recognise the sail." He passed steer to another man to get near Jon. "What to do?" 

He waited a while before answering. An already made camp and good chance to seize it. _Opportunities like this are hard to come by_. "Slavery is illegal in Westeros.Take her to the shore."

  
Turing to other ships he shouted " Men!! On alert!! Follow the lead." It didn’t took a second shout to alert the others. Captains of the ships, both veterans immediately started to give orders to men to get their armors and weapons." 

  
It took a few moments to understand what was going on for Robb. He scrambled his way to Jon demanding explanations. Jon instead handed him a bow and quiver full of arrows. "Get in your armor, brother. And Stay behind the men." Cley and Benfred followed suit. 

  
By the time, they made to the shore, a wind had risen in the western sky. His men rowed with everything they had to keep from being battered by the water. There were screams of wildlings from their poorly made huts as they were being dragged by brown skinned foreigners and put in shackles. Fortunately, the village seemed bigger than it looked and all the slavers were busy hunting down as many slave as they could, leaving no lookouts. Jon noticed all these in a single glance and ordered a skirmish tactic. 

  
The younger men, with Robb,Cley and Benfred were given javelins, arrows and were ordered to stay behind. While Jon himself, Theon and Ulfric would be on the front line with rest of the men. All three of them tried to protest but were pushed back to the line. 

The battle was short and bloody as the slavers weren't aware of their presence before they got hit by a volley of missiles. Jon fought with his new favourite weapon, a four and half feet long thin lipped axe which he used like a pole-arm . 

The field was exciting and they tore through the ranks with whip speed, his hand getting bloodier and bloodier. He got struck hard on his head by a shield and got knocked to the ground, but kicked out with his legs and managed to take the man down also. Before he could get up, Jon was on the man stabbing his with his sword. A few feet away Theon got also taken down and he wasn’t so lucky. His foe nearly finished him off but Jon threw his sword at him, hitting him in the back. For once, the squid had a look of gratitude on his face, not of arrogance. 

  
As the battle cooled, he took a look around him. There were a still a few scattered  skirmishes. "Hlaoa Hann allr" he screamed, ordering to kill all of the slavers. And took a step down to look around. The number of their enemies dead outnumbered those still alive. 

Kneeling down, he smeared the blood on his hands on his Hair. A ritual he enjoyed on the heat of battle, which gave him his nickname. 

 

  
"Feels good, doesn't it?" a voice spoke from behind, startling him. He nearly grabbed his axe but instead his jaw dropped as he looked behind. The girl from Kattegat he met, many months ago were there. 

  
"Rhae, how did you get here!!" He inquired, overcoming his surprise. "Were you in one of the ships?" 

  
"I go wherever the gods goes." Instead the girl took a seat beside him. She looked much better and lively since their last meet."They're watching you now." 

"The man from the healer's house." Jon remembered. "Is he one of the old gods?"

"No. All-father is much older than the spirits of the forest. He was a god of the first men before they came to this land.A god of War and Wisdom." 

  
Jon wanted to know more but Robb called his name and limped his way to him. Turing his head he saw that Rhae was gone. Like the flight of a raven. 

  
So he went forward to check on his brother. Robb's face was completely pale. No doubt from the shock of his first battle. The brother's embraced as Robb spoke. " Can you see them,Jon?" 

  
"See what" he was even more confused now. 

"The ravens around us." Robb whispered."Look at the sky! I asked Benfred but he told me I was just seeing things." 

  
When Jon looked up he could see them too then. Hundreds of ravens were flying above their head. Thunder rumbled across the sky. Around the flashes it looked like the birds were dragging the soul of the fallen warriors from their body. 

  
"The gods are here" he whispered back.

 

 


	9. The Sea Wolves. Part 2 (History)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rather than concentrating in the story, let us move a few hundred years after. Where the great Norse Age has left an everlasting impact in Westeros and Essos.It is in the Same universe. But this part is in the eyes of modern writers describing the old times in Historical style.
> 
> If you don't understand some terms like what I meant by "Gotaland" or what the "Russ" are, all this will be explained in the storyline. Instead of two different version of Northmen (Wildlings and Nords) here we have three. All of them are Northmen but Nords, Russ and Gottish are different people in terms of Culture.

 

**Even in the sheath, the sword must be sharpened; the mind and spirit must also be within the body.**

_This Viking proverb reminds us that wherever you are in life, don't forget to take care of your mental and spiritual well-being._

 

 

The most frightening thing about the Vikings was that almost nothing about them was known. In the early third century, their homelands were at the fringe of the known world, a cold and inhospitable place that the civilizing hand of the Faith of The Sevem had never touched.The North – the land divided today into the modern countries of Kingdom Of The North, Gotaland, and Russ – is a place of extremes. It stretches 5000 miles from Riverlands in the North to Knivskjellodden in the Lands Of Always Winter, a distance accounting for more than the length of Westeros.

 

In the Viking Age, both The North and Gotaland were thinly settled and largely unable to sustain large populations. Gotaland’s available farmland was broken up by long narrow fjords, which led into the mountainous interior, while vast, impenetrable forests, bogs, and lakes closed off much of southern and western country. A surprising amount of game was available in the summers – including reindeer, elk, wolves, bears, wolverines, and foxes – but the long winters punished those who failed to plan ahead. Perhaps because of this scarcity, hospitality was highly valued, and failure as a host could start bloodfeuds lasting generations.

 

To pass the time they invented a number of games including  _Knattleik_ , a ball game similar to hockey, which attracted both large crowds and frequent injuries. Several less violent board games did exist, but the Vikings primarily valued physical fitness. Their most popular activities were usually tests of strength – wrestling, sword fighting, and trying to dunk each other; endurance – climbing fjords, skiing, skating and distance swimming; or agility – throwing spears with both hands at the same time, or leaping from oar to oar outside the railing of a ship while it was being rowed.

Winners of these contests were not shy in broadcasting the fact. A legendary Nothern king named Rickon Stark boasted to his even more legendary brothers and sisters that “ _I was so good at skating that I didn’t know anyone who could vie with me; but none of you were better than a cow_.”

 

When not fighting themselves, the Northmen( _mostly the people of Gotaland_ ) would occasionally pit animals against each other. The most popular of these blood sports involved horses. Two stallions would be led in sight and smell of a fenced-off mare, and allowed to fight, often resulting in the death of the weaker one. Indiscriminate killing was frowned upon, but mercy was not a quality that befitted a warrior. One Thennic man was apparently mocked as a ‘child-lover’ because he refused to participate in the sport of tossing captured babies into the air and catching them on the point of a spear.

These pursuits sound brutal to our ears, but in other ways the Notherners were surprisingly modern. Unlike the usual stereotype of a rude barbarian, they were very conscious of their appearance and had excellent hygiene. They carefully groomed themselves and generally bathed at least once a day with a lye-rich soap that both bleached their hair and cut down on lice. Highly prized tweezers, razors, combs, and even ear cleaners have all been found in Viking excavations.

Thanks to the presence of less sugar in Nothern diets, cavities were virtually unknown, and although half of their children died before age ten, those who survived could expect to live into their fifties, a very respectable age for the time. The average height for males was five foot eight, and females five foot three, not towering, but certainly taller than the peoples to the south with whom they came in contact.

Women, although by no means equal, probably had greater rights in Viking culture than anywhere in Westeros. Many girls married as young as twelve, but when the husband was away, the wife ran every aspect of the home and made all important decisions. If she remained married for twenty years – and either partner could dissolve the union at will – she had a legal right to half of the wealth her husband had accumulated. Unlike in the rest of Westeros, she could inherit property, divorce her husband, and reclaim her dowery when the marriage ended. Several touching rune stones have been found raised in women’s honor – from the Gottish king Tormund the Old who praised his wife as ‘ _the ornament of  Gotaland"_   to an anonymous carving proclaiming that there was ‘ _no better housewife than Munda_ ’.

Children were encouraged to help their parents with the running of the household. Girls were taught the arts of brewing and dairy production, while boys were instructed how to hunt while skiing, and to work with wood or metal. The games they played were designed to prepare them for adulthood. A favorite exercise of boys was jumping while carrying weight and swimming while armed; a fully-grown Viking was expected to be able to swim for several miles.

Order in society was kept through harsh punishments. Men caught in adultery were hung or trampled by a horse, arsonists were burned at the stake, and, according to the Nothern historian Beda Grammaticus, those who killed their brothers were hung by their heels next to a live wolf. Rebels who flouted the community’s – or later the king’s – decisions were tied to horses and torn apart, or bound to an enraged bull.

Surprisingly for such violent times, the Nords also believed that a cultured man should be musical. A popular saga told of the Russ king Godmund who employed a musician that played with such vigor that even the knives and dishes started to dance. Indeed, no Viking court was complete without its poets, musicians, and dancers. The thirteenth century  _Orkneyinga Saga_  tells of Rognvald Kali Kolsson, a political mover who counted the king of The North among his friends, who listed harp playing among the skills he was most proud of.

Viking celebrations were probably rowdier than elsewhere in Westeros. Feasts could last for quite a while – the Gottish king Sven Estridsson held one for eight days – and always involved drinking. The appropriate form at these celebrations was to imbibe without inhibition, and contests were frequent, usually battles of wit where both sides tried not to show any effects of the alcohol. This was made more difficult since it was considered a grave breach of hospitality to refuse an offered horn of ale or mead unless you were old or sick.

Feasting and hospitality were important because for nearly six months a year the Vikings had to endure freezing, snowy winters on land and foul storms at sea. The imposing landscape and harsh conditions produced a population that was brutally capable and independent. They valued courage and despised weakness. The custom, at least among those Nords who went east, was for a father to place a sword in his new-born son’s crib and say ‘ _I shall not leave you property to inherit. You have nothing but what you ca_ _n acquire for yourself with this sword_.’ This attitude, that life, glory and wealth must be seized, characterized the Norse throughout the Viking Age. When asked what faith he subscribed to, one Sixth century Viking responded “ _I believe in my own strength_.”

 

Even though they didn't have no official way of prayer, that didn’t stop the Vikings from appealing to the gods for their aid – especially at sea. The Viking world, after all, was one of water as much as land. When game was scarce, gifts from the sea – seal, whale, and walrus meat – sustained them. Travel along The North’s dramatic fjords, Gotaland’s coasts, and Russ’s islands, could only be made by sea. In many ways the ocean knit Nordic world together, and as a result the Vikings viewed their world through the prism of the ocean. They called the spine of mountains that split their great peninsula ‘Kjølen’ –  _the Keel_  – as if the whole Nordic land itself were an upturned boat. Babies were laid in cradles shaped like ships, children played with toy boats, and adults designed houses like ships – at times  _from_  discarded bits of ships. Women wore clasps and brooches in their shape, and some men even rode with stirrups fashioned with dragon-headed prows. Even in death they refused to be parted from their ships. Great men and women merited fully fitted, ornamental vessels, complete with slaughtered animals, weapons, wealth, and slaves – voluntary or not – all interred beneath a great mound. Lesser warriors were laid in simple ships, functional vehicles to carry them into eternity. Those too poor to afford the real thing were buried in pits, covered in stones arranged in the shape of a boat.

Thanks to this emphasis on the sea, the Vikings were well aware of the world to their south. All the Nordic lands had vast natural resources, including pelts, high quality amber and enormous iron deposits, and by the third century the northerners had been carrying out a brisk trade with the lands to their south and east for centuries.

The word ‘Nord’ was in fact coined by the Aandal Maester Pliny the Elder in the first century A.D. He mistook the nothernmost tip of Gotaland for an island and called it ‘Nordland’ after a tribe that lived there. His contemporary Tacitus, writing at the end of the century, described its inhabitants with the word  _Gottish_  – from which we get ‘Gottaland’ – as ‘well-armed, acquisitive, skilled in sailing curious ships with a prow at each end…’

In those first centuries of contact with the Andals, the ‘strange ships’ came to trade not rob. Their wares, especially the fine horses and black fox skins, were highly valued in Andal markets. The reverse was also true. Andalic goods, most often weapons, glass, and jewelry, filtered up through Westerosi intermediaries and are sometimes still found in early Nordic grave mounds. This trade also brought with it knowledge of the Andalic and Essosi alphabet which – slightly adapted for carving on hard surfaces – formed the basis of the first Runic script.  
  
(To be Continued..........................)


	10. Enemies and Allies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. And for the history part I've been adding I've decided to add them much later of this story's arc.
> 
> And those of you will read this please do comment. About how I can improve in which direction you would like this to go, if you dislike something etc. I value them more than kudos

**Varamyr**

Varamyr crouched low, bow at the ready.

The mountain goat herd was unaware, digging through the fresh fallen snow to find the last autumn grass. The largest of them was three time his size. He knew if he could bring it down, he and his thralls would eat well for a day. He was often fed by his animals, it was only natural that he would return the favour sometimes. _Stalking a beautiful maid was tiring job for them after all._  

  
Normally whenever he desired a woman he sent his shadow cat to stalk her, and whatever girl he’d cast his eye upon would follow meekly to his bed. Some came weeping, aye, but still they came. Varamyr gave them his seed, took a hank of their hair to remember them by, and sent them back.From time to time, some village hero would come with spear in hand to slay the beastling and save a sister or a lover or a daughter. Those he killed, but he never harmed the women. _But this bitch was different_. Val was not just any free folk women. She was the daughter of Hakon. The old fool was the chief of a village and had his men following him around like a fucking kneeler. And Hakon might be old himself but he was still a formidable warrior by his own right. Men from all around the Antler river paid heeds to his words,sought advice from him in case of quarrels. A word from him and the great Varamyr Fiveskin would find himself being hunted by an entire village. 

He himself had been a lord of sorts. He lived alone in a hall of moss and mud and hewn logs that had once been his mentor's, attended by his beasts. A dozen villages did him homage in bread and salt and cider, offering him fruit from their orchards and vegetables from their gardens. In return, he kept their land safe from other raiders and horn-foot men. _But he wouldn’t count himself be joined by them in case of a fight. Especially in one over some girl._  

Varamyr shifted, aiming his arrow at the largest goat's heart. It just needed to move a little bit closer... a bit more.....There! 

The arrow burried  itself in the beast's leg. The animal let out a bellow of pain and the herd scattered, their injured fellow struggling to stagger off after them. 

The next one hit home; hitting the animal's side and sending the goat crashing to the ground. He emerged from his hiding place, making his way to the dying beast. It's blood painting the snow in red. He took a bone knife and slit the throat. Then knelt down to cut a large piece from himself and the shadow-cat. Leaving the rest for the wolves. His snow-bear liked to hunt for his own meat. 

He dragged the leg piece to the make-shift lookout he built for the day to return to his watch. Val entered in there in the morning and hadn’t left yet. 

  
The meat he cut in little pieces, to put them in the copper pot. The bones were hard to break but he managed with his stone-axe. Putting all of them in the pot, he mixed some roots and a bit of ale. The smoke of pine branches were intoxicating as he increased the fuel in the fire. In the smoke, he could almost see the victory he would gain soon enough _. Oh he plans he had for the girl._ He wouldn’t kill her just yet. He would wait to use her to break her father first. _Maybe then_. Or perhaps she would give her a child worthy of passing his gifts. 

First time he saw Val was in a celebration fire near her father's village, just over a year ago. The girl was different than the others he bedded over the years. _Bitch had a body like a goddesses_ , thick soft curls framed in a braid, tan face, red lips leaving his head dizzy and his mind confused. A bit young for his taste, but reached womenhood far earlier than her age. He knew he had to had her. 

So he went to her father and made his introduction. Instead of just bedding the girl like he would with any other women, he wanted to get her hand for himself. When Hakon heard his intention, he went mad. Claiming he was very aware Of Varamyr's reputation. Then, words changed to threat and he found the men all around the fire getting up, grabbing arms in their hands. So he had to leave. But not before promised all the present folk that this would end in blood for them. _For someone of his reputation wouldn’t be insulted by an old man._  

Varamyr had the closest things wargs had for a king. Once, when he was ten, Haggon, his mentor had taken him to a gathering of such. The wargs were the most numerous in that company, but the boy had found the others stranger and more fascinating. Borroq looked so much like his boar that all he lacked was tusks, Orell had his eagle, Briar her shadowcat (the moment he saw them, he wanted a shadow-cat of his own), the goat woman Grisella …None of them had been as strong as Varamyr Fiveskins, though, not even Haggon, tall and grim with his hands as hard as stone. The hunter died weeping after Varamyr took Greyskin from him, driving him out to claim the beast for his own. _No second life for you,old man_. Most would say it murder, but he saw only mercy. 

Years later he had tried to find his parents, to tell them that their puny son had become the great Varamyr, the son they discarded but both of them were dead and burned. Gone into the trees and streams, gone into the rocks and earth. Gone to dirt and ashes. That was what the woods witch told his mother, the day  his brother died. Lump did not want to be a clod of earth. The boy had dreamed of a day when bards would sing of his deeds and pretty girls would kiss him. _When I am grown I will be the King-Beyond-the-Wall_ , he had promised himself. He never had, but he had come close. His name was one men feared. He rode to battle on the back of a snow bear thirteen feet tall, kept three wolves and a shadow-cat in thrall. _A King in all but name._  

  
He was so busy reminiscing  the past that he didn’t even notice the massive galley sailing right up to the beach. Strange figures existed from it, began to seizing the man and women, using blunt weapons. _Fucking Slavers form the South._ The free folk didn’t stand a chance. Even the large red-haired chieftain  and his sons were being rounded up. "Fuck" he thought. Varamyr had half a mind to storm the village using his beasts to find the girl but those Southerners were too many in number. His dreams of bedding the most beautiful girl was vaporizing right before his eyes. 

  
But then three new ships arrived and joined the fight against the slavers. The boy leading these men were of lands just south of the wall, he noticed as he looked through the shadow-cats eye. _Maybe he still had a chance._  

**XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

 

**Jon**

"They were indeed a wild-looking people" Jon decided. Mostly dark-haired like him. Nearly all of them shared very similar looks to each other. Indeed, a stranger would have found difficulty in distinguishing them apart except by their ages. 

The men looked coarse faced and crushed looking as they were being unchained from their shackles. _Wildlings were hardy people_. But they lost families in the hand of the slavers. Many of the men who tried to resist were killed. And the rest were severely beaten by iron clubs. 

Jon sat down behind a chained women to free her. "It's alright. I'm just going to set you free", he assured. He had to use a hatchet to break the chain. Instead of thanking him, she ran away as soon as he was done.  

  
Sighing he got up, hoping to go to another direction to find some calm, while his men were busy with the task of freeing the wildlings. Instead loud screams of threats took his ear. 

  
" Calm down. You crazy fuck!" Ulfric swore while holding a small hatchet intended for breaking the chains. "I'm only trying to set you free." 

  
Walking forward Jon glanced on the situation ahead of him. Robb, Theon and company were surrounding several red haired man and a women. All but one of them were seating with their hands bound behind their back and the exception had a spear on his hand which he was swinging wildly. "Stop! You fooking Southerners. Devils! C'me no closer." 

"Look like we found the chieftain." Theon informed dryly. "Don't see why we took the trouble of saving this savage." 

"Father" a man almost as tall as giant spoke tiredly. "They're only trying to help us. They saved us for fucks sake!" 

  
The man continued his dance with the spear,with the shackles attached to his hands and foot. "Don't believe them boy!. They're here to kill us or take your brother's or sister away." 

  
Jon was tired. They just saved these people and their leader was being a madmen. "I don't give a shit about your sons and daughters you idiot" he shouted. Finally the large man stopped. "We'll set you all free. And then you can fuck off in any direction you want. But I'll want to speak to you before that. 

  
"Robb! Come with me." He stopped and turned. "Let's go and take a look at the Galley." 

  
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

 

By the time they were done, it was night. The wildlings retreated to their home. They mourned their dead and left them on a pyre to be burned tomorrow. Most of their own men dragged their long-ships on the beach and set up camps. 

 

Jon marched toward the center of the village accompanied by Robb. Ulfric joined from the soldiers with them. A  large hall more neatly constructed   
than most, of fir poles from the wood tied together at the top, square-shaped and covered with untanned skins laid over a roof of dried ferns and seaweed, arranged so as to keep out the cold. 

  
He shoved the door to get inside. The place within was quite spacious, fifty feet long, perhaps, by about thirty in   
breadth.In the center of it, on a hearth of clay, burned a wood fire, the smoke of which escaped through a hole in the roof, though, the night being still, much hung about, making the air thick and pungent, but this Jon, being accustomed to it, did not notice.

  
On the farther side of the fire, attending to the grilling of strips of flesh set upon pointed sticks, stood Hassmyra, Tormund's wife, clothed in a kirtle of sealskins fastened beneath her breast, for here, the place being warm, she wore no cloak. She was a finely built woman of about thirty years of age, with masses of black hair that hung to her middle, clean and well-kept hair arranged in four tresses, each of which was tied at the end with fibers of grass or sinew. Her skin was whiter than that of most of the people. 

 

"Greetings, lady" Jon showed the chief's wife proper courtesy. Robb and Ulfric followed suit. 

Hassmyra threw a curious, searching glance at him, as though to read his mind, then smiled in rather a forced fashion and drew forward a block of wood. 

  
"C'me take a seat, lads" the large redhead spoke from the other side of the fire. An exact copy of his was beside him,only a foot taller.  " Yer have my thanks for saving my people and family I guess. Law of hospitality is yours". He offered a piece of brown bread a salt in a plate. "You’ve met my woman. And this here is my eldest, Torryg." 

  
Jon accepted the offered salt and bread. _Perhaps the man wasn’t to crazy after all_. "What is your name, may I ask?"   

The man laughed."Very well. Before you sits Tormund Giantsbane, Tall-Talker, Horn blower and Breaker of Ice. Also I'm Thunderfist, Mead King of this hall and father of hosts." 

"Hmm" he nodded. _This guy surely loves his titles_. "My name is Jon Snow. But my people call me Bloodhair." Motioning to Robb and Ulfric, he introduced. "This is my brother, Robb Of House Stark and my Housecarl, Ulfric." 

  
Tormund nodded in return, eyeing his blood soaked hair that hasn’t been washed yet. "I 'ave never seen a southerner doing anything out of the goodness in 'is heart. Still I thank you. But since you are still here you must've want something in return." he paused. "What is it?" 

  
 _Clever man. Not so wild either_. "You're right. I came beyond the Wall with a purpose. But since I'm here now I want to offer you something. "

"And we're not Southerners." Robb spoke for the first time since entering  the hall. "My family has ruled The North since the dawn of time." 

"Not the real North, lordling." Tormund replied. "No one rules us but ourselves." Turning his eyes from a bristling Robb on whom Jon had to place a hand to keep him saying some harsh thing he asked, "What is this offer you speak off?" 

  
By then a young comely maid and boy of red hair entered, carrying food items with them. 

Lumps of sun dried stockfish,  fried meat on stick and some prawn were presented along with cups of mead. Jon accepted the food as a sign of protection.  While trying to make a mark the stone like fish, he replied. "A trade deal to be clear." 

  
Tormund looked suspicious. "You are the Lords here. Sons of The Great Starks of Winterfell. And yet yer asking me for trade? " 

  
"Why not? " Jon smiled a bit. "You have goods that I need. I have goods that you need. Cloths, proper food, medicines, tools. What's stopping us from making honest deals like honest man?" 

  
"The free folk raids for the things we need." Torryg the Tall seemed uninterested. "We don't need any Lord's help for that. Also Many of our people will see this "deal" as a betrayal. "

  
"Bad news for the raiders then." Ulfric put in sarcastically. "We're not the only ships you’ll see in the coming days. Northern Navy will start patroling our Western coast very soon. Raiders crossing the sea to go Bear-Islands or further inlands won't get a chance to come back. And it seems like climbing the Wall is a tough job." 

"Bold Words for three lordlings who are still half a boy." 

"In case you didn’t notice." Jon retorted back. "The other halves are very dangerous men." 

 

  
Tormund got redder in his face if it was possible. "What do you assholes want in return anyway? We certainty don't have golds or silks lying around the corners." 

  
"On the contrary. I don't need gold or silks from you. I want timber, high quality ambers, falcons, furs, walrus ivory, silver or iron ores. Your lands are teaming with wealth. You'll be fool if you don't use it to build a better future for yourself."  Jon tried to make it sound as tempting as possible. 

  
Tormund hummed. Thinking it around But Torryg again acted a bit angry. " If it's trade we are talking about then we need weapons. Swords and Spears of steel." 

  
"When my father hears we are trading weapons with the people who might try to use it against our own, he will hang us, and you from the walls of Winterfell" Robb shut him down. "Don't mistake the kindness of Eddard Stark for weakness." 

  
 _Not if they make their own weapon though._ "If you swear before a heart-tree that you, Tormund Giantsbane won't raid into the lands of The North, we can show you how to work on Bronze properly. Then you can have your protection. " 

  
"You can mock the old gods without our help. "

  
Ghost decided it was a good time to make an entry then. He was locked in the boat during the battle and afterwords. _Poor boy._

Tormunds eye reach over his hairline seeing Ghost and immediately went for the weapons. He was even more surprised when the wolf simply sat down beside Jon. "That's a fooking Direwolf!" 

Everyone even Jon himself was surprised. Till then he thought Ghost was just a really fast growing wolf. But the thought of him being a  Direwolf didn’t come to his mind. _Stupid,_ he berated himself. 

Tormund waited a few moments eyeing Ghost. _And eyeing his bond with me. He knows I'm a warg_. "You certainly don't mock the old gods" He said finally. "For that reason I agree to your deal, Lord Bloodhair." 

  
They waited the next day before sailing. Jon worked out the details of the deal and promised to come back two months later while Tormund would reach out to other villages to gather the goods. He gave the wildlings all the food that were found in the slavers galley. It could feed the village for months. Along with all the weapons. _Hopefully that will make them little less wild  and bitter_. He kept all the gold found in the ship and Robb kept the ship for the fleet of Sea Dragon Point. "Father will be happy when he hears about this or he will be really mortified", Robb joked. "Pay a bard to create a song of this adventure when you go back. That will be the final nail" Jon added as the brothers laughed together. 

  
However half a day after in the journey Zhing blasted a horn from the galley to catch his attention . He quickly climbed a rope ladder to get to the deck from his long-ship. "It appears we didn't search the galley all to well Lord." Zhing informed meekly. Jon couldn't agree more. 

Because right in front of him lying was  a very injured maid of blonde hair who apparently was broken out of a secret compartment of the lower level. 

 

 

**XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

**Gwyn Whitehill**

Gwyn walked silently through the Haunted Forest, a hand on the hilt of her dagger as her only security. The sun was setting over the trees, making the sky light up in a mixture of orange and pink clouds. Gwyn smiled up at it, admiring it in the cool breeze and silence of the forest. She saw some bushes move not far off, and gasped in surprise, her dagger out and at the ready should anyone—or anything—attack her.

“Who are ye? Show yourself!” Gwyn called out, hoping with all her heart that it wasn’t one of her father’s guards, come to take her back to Highpoint.

More rustling met her words. All of a sudden a hand landed on her shoulder and she whipped around, screeching in surprise. She lost her balance and fell into the bushes behind her. She glanced up to see Asher standing over her, laughing hysterically. Gwyn pouted, but she was honestly relieved to see Asher standing there before her. It was just another one of his silly games and she might as well play along.

“That’s not funny!” She exclaimed but she was smiling as she brushed sticks and dirt from her gray gown.

“You should have seen your face! It was extremely funny!” Asher replied, chuckling as he helped Gwyn to her feet. “Gods, it’s good to see you.” Asher told her, his green eyes soft as he gazed at her.

“It’s great to see you too.” Gwyn replied, smiling. She sighed inwardly, dreading what she was about to do. This was going to be harder than she thought.

“We took a great risk coming here.” She informed him grimly, although she was sure he already knew that.

“I don’t care. I had to see you.” Asher responded, gently taking her hand in his. “I love you Gwyn. I don’t care what anyone says, I  _want_ to be with you.”

Gwyn looked longingly at him. He was the love of her life and yet…

“Asher I love you too but—sneaking around like this…it’s…” Gwyn tried to find the right word to use so she wouldn’t upset him but the look Asher gave her told her she already had. His green eyes were full of hurt.

“It’s what? It’s  _wrong_?” Asher spat out the word and Gwyn’s heart stung when he said it like that.

“No, no that’s not what I meant. Asher please—” Gwyn tried.

“Why is it wrong to be with someone I love just because our houses are feuding? Who bloody cares?”

Gwyn could tell he’d been drinking a bit. She approached Asher slowly.

“I know your father doesn’t give you the attention you deserve but this…this sneaking out, purposefully disobeying his direct orders isn’t going to change anything Asher.” She said softly.

Asher seemed to think that over for a moment.

“I don’t give two shits what my father thinks.” Asher blurted. “I only care what you think. My family doesn’t care about me.”

Gwyn’s blue eyes softened at Asher’s words. She moved toward Asher so her front was almost touching his and placed a hand on his shoulder firmly, comfortingly. Asher looked at her hand and placed one of his on top of it, rubbing her knuckles with his fingers. If it were anyone else, Asher would have flinched away and retreated back a few steps, but he had always had a soft spot for Gwyn.

“I’m sure that’s not true Asher. What about Rodrik? Ethan? Talia? I’m sure they—”

“‘Regal Rodrik’ is the ‘Lord in training’. We battle side by side and see each other at meals but he never has time for me these days. We used to have battle practice every day before supper but not anymore. And Ethan and Talia, well…they just think I’m a bloody reckless fool. And they’re not wrong, either. I knew it was a big risk coming here, but I still wanted to go and I don’t regret it for a second but…keeping secrets from the twins is hard. I’m a piece of shit big brother to them.” Asher shut his eyes, trying his hardest not to shed a tear. Gwyn listened to Asher while he talked and when he finally stopped she found her voice.

“That’s not true. Rodrik tries to make time for you I’m sure and Talia and you are very close right? You convinced Ser Royland to teach her how to fight if I’m not mistaken? I’m positive she appreciated that. As for Ethan—didn’t you teach him how to shoot his first crossbow yesterday?” Gwyn replied, trying to cheer him up.

“So? Talia kept asking me why the sword was so heavy and if she could use a smaller one. And Ethan couldn’t aim worn a wildling’s ass. I’m a terrible teacher.”

“They just need patience and practice Asher. None of us are perfect. Everything takes time…”She trailed off, thinking.

“Do you think time will stop the feud between our families?” Asher asked the very question that was on her mind, a question she had asked herself many times before.

“Gods I hope so.” She sighed, looking toward the ground, her pale blue eyes filled with sorrow.

“Hey,” Asher prompted her. “It’ll be alright, Gwyn. We’ll get through this together.”

Gwyn smiled at him. He was always good at reassuring her. He grabbed her chin in his fingers and leaned in, placing a gentle but passionate kiss on her lips. Then he pulled back and smiled at her and she smiled back at him. Suddenly there was more rustling in the bushes.  _No. Anything but this._

Forresters came out of one side of the woods, Whitehills came out on the other, surrounding the two of them.

Gwyn’s greatest fear was coming true. They had finally been caught

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written the Gwyn part. 
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> [ If someone wants to read love-poems you can follow this link.](https://allpoetry.com/WolfOfWar)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction work.So please forgive the bad writing style.I always wanted to read a fic where The North is more strong with equal footing with the southern neighbours.But too OP.This is my try at describing it how it could be..  
> Anyway,English is not my mother tongue. Apologising for grammar and typing mistakes.Critisim is accepted


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